THE  SUCCESS  OF 
PATRICK  DESMOND 


MAURICE  FRANCIS  EGAN 


</ 


THE    SUCCESS 


PATRICK    DESMOND. 


MAURICE    FRANCIS    EGAN. 


NOTRE   DAME,  IND.: 
OFFICE   OP  THE   "AVE   MARIA/ 


By  D.  E.  HUDSON,   C.  S.  C. 
Copyright,  1893 


TO 

PATRICK  O'BRIEN,  ESQ., 

OF 
SOUTH  BEND,  INDIANA, 

WITH  THE 

RESPECT  OF  THE  AUTHOR, 
MARCH   17,   1893. 


*•/  -A.  -J.  '3  t^J 3  & 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATEICK  DESMOND. 


I. 

And  I  am  sick  at  heart.  —  Francisco  in  Hamlet. 

IN  the  little  town  of  Redwood,  in  a  State  which 
is  almost  happy  enough  to  have  its  boundary  line 
touch  the  sacred  soil  of  New  York,  there  were 
two  very  unhappy  people.  One  was  a  man  of 
twenty-three ;  the  other  was  a  young  gentle- 
woman of  the  same  age. 

For  fear  of  disappointment,  it  is  as  well  to  say 
that  there  was  no  cause  like  that  which  made  all 
the  woes  of  Romeo  and  Juliet  to  make  them  suffer. 
Patrick  Desmond  was  neither  a  Capulet  nor  a 
Montague,  and  the  only  person  he  really  loved 
in  the  world  was  his  mother.  As  to  Eleanor 
Redwood,  she  was  of  a  ruling  family  of  the 
town  —  it  having  been  named  after  her  father, 
the  Judge, —  but  as  yet  this  had  nothing  to  do 
with  any  affair  of  the  heart.  She  was  in  that 
happy  and  healthy  period  of  life  when  she  was 
unconscious  of  possessing  a  heart.  She  had  not 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

begun  to  think  or  talk  about  it  at  all ;  and  she 
loved  with  all  her  unconscious  heart  the  old 
Judge,  her  father. 

And  it  was  this  love  that  made  her  wretched. 
Eleanor  was,  in  appearance,  a  beautiful  girl.  The 
people  of  Redwood  did  not  know  it;  but  there 
were  many  more  important  things  they  did  not 
know.  It  was  their  opinion  that  Eleanor  would 
have  been  "  passable  "  if  her  eyes  "  matched  "  her 
hair.  At  Redwood,  taste  required  that  every- 
thing should  "  match."  She  had  light  hair  with 
a  tinge  of  red  in  it,  and  large  brown  eyes.  In 
fact,  her  face  was  like  Lely's  picture  of  Mary 
Stuart  in  her  youth.  There  was  a  freckle  or  two 
on  her  cheek,  and  she  was  very  tall.  Unlike  most 
tall  girls,  she  did  not  make  the  mistake  of  stoop- 
ing forward  to  conceal  her  height.  When  she  was 
interested,  her  face  brightened ;  but,  as  a  rule,  it 
was  rather  sad  in  repose.  She  had  a  great  capac- 
ity for  enjoyment,  and  the  social  amusements  of 
the  town  satisfied  her.  She  did  not  long  for 
anything  better  or  wider,  for  she  had  never  known 
anything  else.  It  was  the  impression  of  the  town 
that  she  dressed  badly ;  and  the  members  of  the 
first  families,  as  well  as  the  factory  girls,  could 
not  tolerate  that.  The  idea  of  Eleanor  Redwood 
wearing  plain  frocks  and  simple  hats,  when,  as 
everybody  knew,  she  might  have  had  the  finest 
possible  things  from  New  York  or  Paris  !  Con- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.          5 

sequently  she  attracted  no  attention  whatever  in 
church. 

She  was  held  to  be  peculiar  and  haughty. 
Some  people  thought  that  she  was  clever ;  but  as 
she  had  never  been  away  from  home,  and  had  not 
"  finished "  her  education  in  one  of  the  large 
cities  or  in  Europe,  there  was  a  division  of  opinion 
on  this  point.  Still  she  was  envied.  Was  she 
not  Judge  Redwood's  daughter  ?  And,  though 
there  were  richer  people  than  Judge  Redwood  in 
the  town,  there  was  nobody  so  distinguished.  He 
held  advanced  opinions ;  he  was  not  an  Ingersol- 
lian  —  he  said  there  were  no  Ingersollians,  and 
that  Ingersoll  was  a  thing  of  shreds  and  patches. 
He  believed,  he  said,  "  in  sixteen  ounces  to  the 
pound."  Further  than  that  he  did  not  know. 
He  was  good-humored  and  cynical  at  the  same 
time.  He  was  tall,  florid,  and  his  white  side 
whiskers  would  have  been  a  perfect  guarantee  of 
his  respectability  anywhere  in  America  —  where 
white  side  whiskers  and  a  high,  bald  forehead  are 
almost  as  impressive  as  a  bank  account.  The 
main  resemblance  between  him  and  his  daughter 
was  in  the  eyes  —  large,  brown,  expressive. 

Judge  Redwood  was  a  quiet  man  ;  he  lived 
among  his  books  when  people  would  let  him. 
He  had,  in  early  days,  been  a  member  of  Congress. 
Beyond  that  he  had  not  gone  into  political  life. 
He  was  a  judge  in  one  of  the  local  courts.  As  a 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

lawyer  his  earnings  had  not  been  large.  His  in- 
come came  from  happy  —  or  unhappy,  according 
to  Eleanor's  secret  thoughts  —  investments  in 
real  estate. 

The  Judge  was  not  always  cheerful ;  at  times 
he  was  preoccupied  and  irritable.  He  would  sit  at 
his  study  window  in  the  twilight,  lost  in  thought ; 
and  when  Eleanor  would  come  to  call  him  to 
have  his  tea,  she  could  not  help  seeing  that  he 
made  an  effort  to  be  cheerful.  She  thought  she 
knew  the  reason  why  ;  and,  looking  across  the  tea- 
table,  with  the  pretty  appointments  which  Eleanor 
loved  to  perfect,  she  felt  that  there  was  an  abyss 
between  her  father  and  her.  Why  did  he  not 
speak  ?  If  he  only  knew  her  —  if  he  could  only 
realize  how  little  all  the  smoothness  of  life  meant 
to  her !  With  joy  in  her  heart  she  would  walk 
out  of  this  comfortable  and  even  luxurious  house, 
take  her  simplest  dresses,  and  go,  poor  and  un- 
friended, to  the  end  of  the  world  with  him.  She 
thought  of  Wilhelm  Meister  and  Mignon.  She 
thought  of  a  dreary  city,  with  narrow  streets  ; 
and  she  imagined  herself  walled  in  by  a  room 
without  beauty,  without  associations.  She  looked 
over  the  soft,  green  lawn,  dotted  with  golden  cro- 
cuses and  scarlet  tulips;  she  felt  the  gentle 
warmth  of  the  grate  fire,  not  disagreeable  in  the 
early  spring  ;  her  eyes  fell  on  the  picture  of  her 
Ijother  above  the  mahogany  cabinet  of  old  china. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Yes,  she  could  give  all  these  up  ;  and  Mignon's 
song  rose  in  her  mind  : 

"  There,  there,  with  thee, 
O,  father,  would  I  dwell  !  " 

She  saw  that  her  father's  Oolong  was  just  as  he 
liked  it ;  and  that  he  had  the  large,  solid,  old- 
fashioned  cup  he  preferred,  with  its  cup-plate,  and 
its  picture  in  blue  of  a  scene  in  Canton.  The 
Judge,  having  poured  out  his  tea  into  his  saucer, 
and  carefully  adjusted  his  precious  cup  on  the 
little  plate  which  the  provident  matrons  of  the 
past  designed  out  of  regard  for  the  table-cloths, 
looked  up  at  his  daughter  with  a  smile. 

"  You  are  just  a  little  like  your  mother  now," 
he  said.  "  Hold  your  head  a  little  to  one  side. 
Now !  The  firelight  on  your  forehead  makes  me 
go  back  twenty  years,  and  I  fancy  that  Clarissa 
is  here.  Time,  after  all,  has  only  one  conqueror  — 
memory.  But  your  mother  was  a  little  woman, 
and  you  are  tall." 

"  Why,  when  I  was  sixteen  I  could  almost  lift 
her  up  and  carry  her  like  a  doll.  And  to  think 
that  she  has  been  dead  since  I  was  seventeen." 

"I  miss  her  more  than  you,  Eleanor  —  more 
than  you,"  the  Judge  said.  "  If  it  hadn't  been 
for  the  streak  of  queerness  your  mother  inherited 
from  her  family,  she  would  have  been  the  most 
perfect  creature  on  earth.  The  Waldrons  were 
all  queer.  The  fact  is,  they  had  that  peculiar 


8         THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICE  DESMOND. 

hallucination  that  affects  Americans  more  than 
other  people.  They  believed  in  their  own  inven- 
tions. The  first  Waldron  came  over  in  the  early 
part  of  the  eighteenth  century,  and  it  ruined  all 
his  descendants.  They  imagined  that  they  were 
an  '  old  family ' ;  and  when  I  proposed  to  your 
mother,  the  whole  kit  and  kin  of  them  exclaimed 
against  it,  because  I  had  never  thought  of  asking 
my  father  when  he  came.  As  if  it  made  any  dif- 
ference ! " 

Eleanor  felt  that  it  would  be  unkind  to  deprive 
her  father  of  the  luxury  of  finding  fault  with  his 
wife's  relatives,  but  this  last  remark  touched  her 
prejudices.  She  could  not  permit  the  claims  of 
"  blood  "  to  be  sneered  at. 

"  It  is  something  to  be  a  Waldron,"  she  said  ; 
"  something  not  to  be  of  yesterday  ;  something 
not  to  be  of  the  mass  of  railroad  laborers  and 
emigrants  who  make  up  the  bulk  of  our  popula- 
tion. Surely,  papa,  you  are  not  sorry  that  I  have 
Waldron  blood  in  me  ;  are  you  ?  " 

The  Judge  looked  at  her  curiously  for  a  mo- 
ment. "  Your  mother  was  a  very  lovely  woman, 
but  she  had  the  Waldron  streak  in  her,"  he  ad- 
ded, with  a  sigh.  "  Don't  imagine  that  I  dislike 
your  little  airs  of  aristocracy,  Eleanor.  They 
become  you ;  they  are  like  brandy  sauce  to  a 
plum-pudding.  But  if  you  love  me,  don't  ask 
me  to  regard  them  seriously.  A  man  in  this 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.         9 

country  must  be  his  own  ancestor ;  a  woman  can 
borrow,  invent,  idealize  as  many  ancestors  as  she 
likes.  It  amused  me  to  see  you  pin  a  big  bow  of 
orange  ribbon  on  the  old  spinning-wheel  on  which 
my  dear  old  mother  spun  her  husband's  coats  and 
waistcoats,  and  exhibit  it  in  the  parlor.  There 
was  no  harm  in  it.  It  showed  that  you  had  a 
grandmother  who  worked  with  her  own  hands, 
which  is  just  what  these  emigrants  do.  The  only 
difference  between  her  and  them  is  that  —  thank 
God  !  —  she  loved  books,  and  the  taste  remains 
with  me.  That,  and  not  '  blood,'  gave  me  what- 
ever grip  I  have  on  the  world.  But  I  don't 
object  to  your  'fads.'  A  woman  to  be  quite 
charming  needs  a  certain  amount  of  foolishness." 

The  Judge  laughed.  Eleanor  made  an  impa- 
tient movement  with  her  head  and  the  thin 
Waldron  teaspoon. 

"  Connect  the  Waldrons,  if  you  wish,  with  Rich- 
ard Coeur  de  Lion  or  anybody  you  like ;  but  don't 
ask  me  to  believe  in  them.  A  man's  a  man ;  and 
Americans,  in  spite  of  their  longing  to  be  better 
than  their  neighbors,  know  that  and  act  up  to  it. 
Nobody  really  believes  in  this  ancestral  nonsense, 
except  man  milliners  and  the  ladies.  Just  look  at 
the  sons  of  our  great  men  —  another  cup  of  tea,  my 
dear.  —  Inherited  abili ty  is  the  essence  of  a  real 
aristocracy ;  nothing  else.  And  until  we  can 
entail  ability,  great  names  will  not  really  count  in 


10        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

the  second  generation  —  another  cup  of  tea,  dear. 
Grandma  always  said  that  I  would  be  a  great  man 
like  Dr.  Johnson,  because  I  was  so  fond  of  tea. — 
Oh !  by  the  way,  Rena  Eastwood  gave  me  a  note 
for  you  as  I  was  passing  her  house.  It  was  a 
message  first ;  but,  as  I  told  her  I'd  forget  it,  she 
reduced  —  or  elaborated  —  it  into  a  note." 

Eleanor  showed  no  anxiety ;  she  went  on  pin- 
ning a  scarlet  tulip  to  her  white  cloth  gown,  while 
the  Judge  searched  his  pockets  for  the  note.  She 
knew  well  that  the  process  would  take  time ; 
besides,  she  was  not  particularly  anxious  to  read 
one  of  Rena  Eastwood's  epistles. 

The  Judge  was  proverbially  absent-minded.  He 
laid  envelope  after  envelope  on  the  table,  and 
finally  found  a  little  three-cornered  note. 

"  I  wish,"  he  said  irritably,  "  that  people  would 
not  bother  me  in  this  way."  But  as  Eleanor  took 
the  note,  he  relapsed  into  serenity  and  the  con- 
templation of  a  piece  of  his  daughter's  cake. 

Eleanor  opened  the  note.  It  was  written  in  the 
prevailing  angular  hand  —  Rena  had  been  a  pupil 
of  a  fashionable  New  York  school.  Eleanor  ran 
her  eyes  over  the  contents ;  her  face  flushed  a 
little. 

"  Rena  does  such  stupid  things  !  "  she  said.  "  I 
must  really  drop  all  church  work,  if  this  sort  of 
thing  goes  on.  One  is  brought  into  contact  with 
all  sorts  of  people." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        11 

The  Judge  laughed.  "  It  strikes  me  that  you 
object  to  the  principle  of  church  work.  I  thought 
that  it  was  the  object  of  church  work  to  bring  all 
Christians  together." 

"But  what  has  the  Minuet  of  Nations  to  do 
with  Christianity  ?  " 

The  Judge  laughed  again. 

u  Oh !  you  know  what  I  mean,  papa.  Our 
church  work  is  merely  social ;  and  of  course  we 
are  all  Christians  ;  and  of  course  we  all  try  to  do 
good  to  the  poor  and  all  that  kind  of  thing ;  but 
we  don't  want  to  mix  the  strata.  It  will  ruin  all 
our  usefulness,  if  things  are  made  too  miscella- 
neous." 

The  Judge,  who  had  the  reprehensible  habit 
of  tucking  his  napkin  under  his  chin,  lay  back 
and  laughed  louder  than  ever.  He  made  a  very 
jolly  picture. 

Eleanor  was  irritated;  her  father  would  not 
understand. 

"  Rena,"  she  said,  with  perceptible  frost  in  a 
voice  that  was  usually  low  and  sweet,  "  announces 
that  Howard  Sykes  has  been  called  away,  and  that 
there  is  nobody  tall  enough  to  lead  the  minuet 
with  me  at  the  Charity  Festival,  except  a  young 
man  her  brother  knows  and  nobody  else  seems  to 
know.  His  name  is  Desmond,  and  he  lives  over 
the  river,  among  the  factory  hands." 

"Desmond!" 


12       THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

The  Judge's  face  changed ;  the  laugh  died  on 
his  lips.  Eleanor  raised  her  eyes  in  time  to  see 
the  light  go  out  of  his  eyes.  He  dropped  them 
before  hers. 

"Ah,"  he  repeated,  "Desmond  !  Do  they  live 
here  still?" 

His  voice  was  quiet,  but  he  could  not  conceal 
from  eyes  that  had  studied  him  many  times  that 
he  was  agitated.  A  quick  pang  pierced  Eleanor's 
heart  at  last.  She  had  gained  another  clue  to 
the  secret  of  her  father's  life.  If  he  would  only 
speak. 

"  Rena  says,"  she  went  on,  "  that  she  must  ask 
him  just  to  fill  up.  He's  not  in  our  §et  —  in  fact, 
he's  not  in  any  of  the  church  sets  :  he's  a  Catholic. 
And  she  wants  me  to  be  nice  to  him  'for  this 
occasion  only,'  as  she  puts  it.  She  says  that  I 
must  ask  him  to  my  Coffee,  as  that  sort  of  people 
are  so  sensitive." 

The  Judge  smiled  again.  "  I  thought  that  the 
Coffee  was  an  instrument  of  torture  for  the  use  of 
women  only." 

"I  shall  have  mine  in  the  evening  and  have 
men,  too,"  said  Eleanor.  "  I  intend  to  pay  off  all 
uy  indebtedness  to  the  mob  at  once." 

The  Judge  grinned,  and  recovered  his  equa- 
nimity. "  A  pleasant  thing  it  is  when  sociability 
becomes  a  debt,  and  you  speaking  of  showing  it  as 
if  you  were  paying  a  bill." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       13 

"  Well,  never  mind,  papa.  I  suppose  I  shall 
have  to  ask  this  young  Desmond.  I  hope  he  wiH 
not  be  too  vulgar." 

Eleanor  watched  her  father  almost  uncon- 
sciously while  she  said  this.  He  looked  up 
quickly. 

"  You  will  not  find  him  vulgar,"  he  remarked. 
"  I  don't  happen  to  know  him,"  he  added ;  "  but  I 
have  heard  of  him." 

Eleanor's  heart  sank.  She  rose  quickly,  as  her 
father  took  up  a  newspaper  and  made  for  the 
lounge  in  the  bay-window.  She  went  slowly  up 
to  her  room,  which  glowed  in  the  red  sunlight  — 
all  its  pretty  adornments  steeped  in  what  seemed 
to  her  to  be  an  ominous  crimson  glow.  She  knelt 
down  by  the  window  that  looked  toward  the  river. 
A  low,  level  plain  stretched  down  to  its  banks, 
dotted  with  pretty  houses.  Points  of  light  shone 
across  the  water,  where  the  crowded  houses  of  the 
factory  hands  stood.  The  freshness  and  scent  of 
spring  filled  the  air  ;  she  thought  of  life  over  there, 
among  coarse  people,  where  at  this  hour  the  smell 
of  frying  beefsteak  mingled  with  the  scent  of 
onions,  and  the  yells  of  untaught  children  rang 
through  the  thin  partitions. 

"  He,"  she  said,  "  should  be  here  and  I  there. 
He  should  have  all  the  pleasant  things  I  enjoy ; 
but  I  could  never  live  over  there,  never,  never ! 
I  should  die  !  " 


14       THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  As  the 
twilight  deepened  she  lit  a  lamp  and  took  out  a 
pretty  blue  and  gold  writing  outfit.  As  she  did 
so  she  caught  sight  of  the  face  of  the  Sistine 
Madonna.  It  was  the  only  thing  in  the  room  that 
gave  her  comfort,  for  she  was  wretched.  At  her 
age  wretchedness  is  intermittent.  Human  nature, 
unless  it  is  insane,  cannot  remain  wretched  very 
long  at  any  age. 

"  I  wish  you  were  a  live  woman  and  that  I  could 
talk  to  you,"  she  said  to  the  picture.  "  I  am  in 
such  doubt,  and  you  could  explain  things  to  God 
better  than  I  can." 

She  sat  down  and  wrote  a  note,  in  her  father's 
name,  to  Mr.  Patrick  Desmond,  East  Redwood, 
asking  him  to  be  present  at  the  social  function, 
which  was  to  pay  off  so  much  of  her  "  indebted- 
ness." 

At  this  same  hour  of  twilight,  on  the  next 
evening,  Patrick  Desmond  was  in  revolt.  He  had 
just  made  his  toilet  in  the  little  room  he  called  his 
own.  It  was  a  plain,  scantily  furnished  room, 
but  scrupulously  kept  with  all  a  mother's  care. 
His  curly,  auburn  hair  flowed  away  from  a  high, 
white  brow,  that,  over-arching,  shadowed  his  dark 
blue  eyes.  He  was  unusually  tall, '  and  he  made 
the  little  front  room  of  his  mother's  house  seem 
smaller  when  he  was  in  it.  He  wore  a  loose  sack 
coat,  which  was  always  kept  for  the  house,  much 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       15 

to  the    surprise    of    the    neighbors,  who  thought 
their  shirt  sleeves  good  enough. 

The  front  room  was  a  model  of  neatness.  The 
floor  was  white  from  frequent  scrubbing;  in  its 
centre  was  a  brilliant  piece  of  carpet.  A  marble- 
topped  table  stood  near  the  window,  on  which 
were  a  large,  gilt-lettered  volume,  "  The  Lives  of 
the  Popes,"  and  an  equally  large  "  Holy  Bible." 
A  large  chromo  of  St.  Patrick  driving  the  snakes 
out  of  Ireland  filled  the  space  over  the  mantel- 
piece. The  window  was  curtained  with  white  and 
rilled  with  pots  of  flowers,  the  geraniums  and  a 
purple  hyacinth  being  in  bloom.  On  the  air  was 
borne,  not  the  odor  of  beefsteak  and  onions,  as 
the  fastidious  Miss  Redwood  had  imagined,  but 
that  of  broiling  fish,  for  it  was  Friday.  And 
after  a  time  a  soft  voice  called  out  from  the  inner 
room  : 

"  Come,  boy.  You  must  be  hungry." 
He  did  not  move  at  once.  How  could  he  go 
into  the  light  with  that  frown  on  his  brow,  and 
that  spirit  of  bitterness  in  his  face?  He  hated 
Redwood.  He  hated  all  the  surroundings  of  his 
life.  To  think  of  living  as  he  did,  among  people 
who  had  no  higher  ambition  in  life  than  "  not  to 
be  out  of  work,"  and  to  save  a  little  money,  was 
madness.  He  appreciated  the  loving  care  his 
mother  gave  him ;  but  he  detested  the  circum- 
stances that  forced  her  to  do  all  her  kindly  work 


16        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICE:  DESMOND. 

with    her    own    hands.     Benson    Eastwood,   his 
fellow-clerk  in  the  factory,  had  asked  him  a  dozen 
times  to  visit  him.     How  could  he  ?     Benson  lived 
on  the  hill,  in  the  very  centre  of  all  that  was  repu- 
table and  elegant  in  Redwood.     How  would  it  do 
to  have  Benson  come  across  the  river  to  return  his 
visit  now  ?     Desmond  felt  the  blood  rush  to  his 
face.     Why  was  life  so  artificial  ?     Why  could  not 
people  be  valued  for  themselves,  without  regard 
to  their  surroundings  ?     Why  was  he  pinioned  for 
life  under  a  crowd    of    inferior    people,    simply 
because    his    father    and  mother  had   been   poor 
and  remained  poor?     He  was  as  clever  as   any- 
body in  Redwood  ;  his  manners  were  as  good ;  for 
refinement   he  would   compare   his   mother  with 
all  the  parvenus  in  the  town,  rich  as  they  were. 
But    an    artificial    standard     had     been     made; 
he  was  not  only  poor  —  which  would   not   have 
made  all  the  difference,  but  he  was  quite  out  of 
all  the  ways  of  advancement.     Jeff  Goodsloe  was 
a  clerk  like  him,  so  was  Benson  Eastwood ;   but 
they  had  been  brought  up  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river ;  they  were  in  the  "  church  circles  "  ;  they 
were    not   of    the    "Irish    Catholic"    set;    they 
belonged  to  "  old  families."     It  will  be  seen  that 
Patrick  Desmond  took  his  provincial  town  very 
seriously.     But  he  had  never  lived  anywhere  else ; 
it  was  his  world. 
"  Come,  boy ! " 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       17 

He  tightened  his  fists  in  the  dark.  He  felt  like 
dashing  away  the  encroaching  walls  which  kept 
him  where  he  was.  The  smell  of  the  fish  and  of 
the  kerosene  lamp  sickened  him.  He  went  into 
the  little  dining-room,  papered  in  white  and  red, 
with  a  mirror  in  a  veneered  frame  as  its  central 
ornament.  His  mother  hovered  around  him  like 
a  happy  bird  over  her  nest.  A  smile  came  to  his 
face  as  the  little  woman  pressed  him  to  eat.  Her 
hair  was  as  white  as  snow,  smoothly  drawn  back 
from  her  forehead,  and  puffed  out  with  hidden 
combs  in  the  old-fashioned  way.  Her  skin,  deli- 
cately tinted  with  the  red  of  a  lady-apple,  was 
covered  with  a  network  of  wrinkles.  Her  eyes 
were  as  blue  and  as  bright  as  her  son's.  She  wore 
a  dark  gown,  which  hung  in  ample  folds,  and  a 
wide  lace  collar.  No  matter  how  hard  her  work 
during  the  day  had  been,  she  was  always  dressed 
in  this  manner  when  her  boy  came  home. 

Mrs.  Desmond  told  him  that  the  children  next 
door  were  recovering  from  the  measles ;  that  the 
white  hyacinth  had  bloomed ;  that  the  flour  mills 
in  Eureka  threatened  to  close,  and  that  she  hoped 
he  would  find  a  place  for  Tommy  Hogan  if  he 
should  come  home  out  of  work.  She  asked  him 
if  he  had  heard  anything  new  about  the  great 
Charity  Festival  for  the  Hospital.  Tommy  Hogan's 
father  had  been  flooring  the  interior  of  the  Music 
Hall  for  it ;  it  was  going  to  be  magnificent.  Her 


18        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

son  sighed.  His  mother  paused  and  looked  at 
him.  She  read  his  thoughts;  but  she  went  on 
talking,  as  if  his  mind  were  a  closed  book  to  her. 
She  trembled  a  little ;  and  when  he  spoke  in  a 
resolute  tone,  she  was  not  surprised. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  "  we  must  leave  this  place. 
I  want  to  be  the  equal  of  any  man,  and  I  intend 
to  be.  To-day  when  Miss  Redwood  passed  me, 
and  smiled  at  Benson  and  met  me  with  a  cold 
stare  of  superiority,  I  made  up'  my  mind  that  I 
would  not  stand  it.  I  will  have  power ;  I  will 
teach  her — "  He  stopped.  He  felt  that  he  was 
talking  too  loud,  and  frightening  his  mother.  "  I 
will  be  rich.  It  is  the  only  thing  that  gives  a  man 
power.  Don't  talk  religion,  mother.  That  was 
what  kept  father  down  — " 

"No,  no,"  cried  his  mother,  raising  her  hands, 
as  if  averting  a  curse ;  "  it  saved  him !  Patrick, 
don't  say  that.  We  did  the  best  we  could  for  you, 
boy.  And  I'm  sure,"  she  said,  a  sob  breaking  her 
voice,  as  she  thought  of  their  long  years  of  toil 
and  of  all  her  care,  —  "  and  I'm  sure  we  have  a 
very  pleasant  home." 

"  Oh !  I  know,  mother  —  I  know.  I  am  not  com- 
plaining, but  I  want  more.  I  want  to  be  rich, 
powerful,  respected ;  and  to  make  the  people  here 
at  Redwood  feel  it.  I  am  sure  the  Judge  looks 
down  on  us  as  if  we  were  beneath  him." 

"You  ought  not  to  think  so,"  said  his  mother, 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       19 

in  that  soft  voice  which  had  the  inflection  of  her 
native  place  in  it.  "  He  is  kind.  He  never  for- 
gets that  I  attended  his  wife  in  her  last  sickness, 
and  many  times  before  that.  You  know  that  he 
always  sends  a  gift  on  her  birthday." 

Patrick's  lip  curled.  "  And  I  suppose  Eleanor, 
his  daughter,  is  taught  to  believe  that  you  were 
her  mother's  hired  nurse?" 

Mrs.  Desmond  smiled  a  little.  "In  those  days 
Mrs.  Redwood  could  not  have  afforded  such  a 
luxury.  She  was  always  very  proud  of  being  a 
Waldron.  We  were  just  neighbors,  that  was  all. 
There  were  no  factories  here  then ;  it  was  before 
the  Judge  sold  his  lots  and  became  rich." 

Patrick  rose  from  the  table,  and  stretched  out 
his  arms  as  if  the  place  were  too  small  for  him. 

"I  must  go  away,  mother,"  he  said. 

His  mother  looked  at  him  anxiously.  "  Sure, 
it  was  good  enough  for  your  father." 

"  I  want  to  be  better  than  my  father." 

Mrs.  Desmond  shook  her  head.  "  That  would 
be  hard  —  God  rest  his  soul !  "  she  said. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  that  way.  He  was  full  of 
Old- World  traditions  and  prejudices.  He  believed 
in  the  work  of  one's  hands  ;  I  believe  in  the  work 
of  one's  head." 

"  He  worked  to  save  his  soul,"  said  Mrs.  Des- 
mond, reverently. 

"  Well,    why    can't  I  save     my    soul    and  be 


20       THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND, 

somebody,  too  ?  "  he  demanded,  impatiently.  "  I'm 
an  American ;  I'm  as  good  as  anybody.  I  tell  you, 
mother,  I'll  not  live  over  here  among  these  fac- 
tories. I'll  meet  Judge  Redwood  and  his  daughter 
face  to  face.  Success  succeeds;  I  want  success, 
at  any  cost." 

Mrs.  Desmond  did  not  answer  at  once ;  she 
said  a  prayer  in  the  meantime.  After  that  she 
spoke  with  a  serene  and  sweet  dignity : 

"  Nothing  is  too  good  for  you  in  my  esteem. 
You've  been  educated  as  well  as  your  father  and 
I  could  do  it,  and  it  was  a  hard  struggle  some- 
times. And  our  only  hope  was  that  you  should 
be  a  good  man.  We  never  asked  honor  or  riches 
for  you,  but  only  goodness.  I  know,"  she  said, 
with  a  slight  trembling  in  her  voice,  u  that  things 
are  poor  and  old-fashioned  here,  and  that  I  am  old- 
fashioned  myself ;  but,  Patrick,  your  old  mother 
and  all  that's  around  her  were  good  enough  for 
him  that's  gone  — " 

Her  voice  broke.  Her  son  put  his  arm  around 
her  neck,  but  he  was  not  moved.  He  thought  im- 
patiently that  she  never  could  understand  him. 

"  Surely,"  she  continued,  happy  now,  "  you'll 
gain  most  by  working  on  and  minding  your  busi- 
ness and  watching  your  chances.  And  there's 
much  good  to  be  done  here  among  our  own 
people.  We  weren't  put  here  to  worry  ourselves 
about  riches.  Let  us  be  content." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        21 

Patrick  ground  his  teeth  to  keep  back  impatient 
words.  His  mother  suddenly  remembered  that  a 
note  had  been  left  by  a  messenger  in  the  morning. 
In  a  large  envelope  was  Judge  Redwood's  card ; 
and,  in  a  smaller  one,  his  invitation,  written  in 
Eleanor's  handwriting,  to  the  assembly  on  Wednes- 
day night.  Patrick  read  it  aloud. 

Mrs.  Desmond  uttered  an  exclamation  of  alarm. 
"  Sure  you'll  never  be  going  over  there  among  all 
the  quality  and  you  not  used  to  it." 

Her  son's  eyes  blazed.  "  I  will  go,"  he  said. 
And  after  a  pause,  during  which  he  suppressed 
his  anger :  "  I  wonder  what  Judge  Redwood 
wants  ?  He  is  probably  about  to  run  for  Congress 
again.  I'll  go,  mother,"  he  repeated ;  "  though  I 
hate  them  all." 

"  God  help  us,"  murmured  his  mother.  "  It's 
hard  for  us  when  our  children  grow  up.  What- 
ever we  do  is  wrong."  She  removed  the  dishes, 
while  her  son  went  into  the  dim  parlor  to  dream ; 
but  at  intervals  she  continued  to  say  plaintively, 
"  God  help  us." 


22        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 


II. 

A  woman  varying  as  the  thistledown ; 
A  wife,  a  mother ;  but — alas !  alas !  — 
Without  the  anchor  Hope,  the  lily 
Peace, —  a  light  thing  of  the  breezes. 

— "  The  Wayside." 

HAVING  sent  away  her  special  invitation  to 
Patrick  Desmond,  Eleanor  Redwood  began  to 
have  regrets  and  doubts.  "Why  had  she  been 
foolish  enough  to  do  it?"  she  asked  herself .  It 
was  true  that  she  had  a  particular  reason  for 
wanting  to  meet  him.  If  she  did  not  like  him 
after  meeting  him,  there  was  no  reason  why  she 
should  permit  herself  to  walk  with  him  in  the 
Minuet  of  all  Nations.  She  thought  with  a  pang 
of  the  alacrity  with  which  her  father  had  con- 
veyed the  note  to  him.  How  could  her  father 
bear  to  do  it?  And  yet  Eleanor  had  too  much 
respect  for  her  father  not  to  believe  that  his 
intentions  were  good.  Perhaps  this  invitation 
would  be  the  means  by  which  the  great  anxiety 
of  her  life  should  be  removed.  Her  heart  leaped 
at  the  thought.  Her  father  had  said  that  he  had 
never  met  Desmond.  Did  this  alacrity  in  giving 
the  invitation  mean  that  he  was  anxious  to  see 
the  young  man  in  surroundings  which  might 
enable  him  to  form  a  judgment  of  his  character  1 

For  several  years  Eleanor  had   lived  under  a 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       23 

cloud,  as  it  were,  —  a  cloud  which  bore  this  resem- 
blance to  an  April  cloud,  that  it  passed  and 
repassed  in  intervals  of  sunshine.  Her  trouble, 
judged  from  the  sentimental  point  of  view  of 
people  who  do  not  know  human  nature,  ought 
to  have  made  her  unhappy  all  the  time.  Perhaps 
she  had  become  used  to  it ;  perhaps  it  was 
because  she  was  young;  perhaps  it  was  that, 
like  the  lady  in  Browning's  "  My  Last  Duchess," 
every  pleasant  thing  cheered  her  up  and  made 
her  forget  her  sorrow.  At  any  rate,  she  was  sad 
only  by  fits  and  starts ;  and  still  there  was  gen- 
erally an  undercurrent  of  anxiety  in  her  mind. 
Many  times,  sitting  opposite  to  the  Judge,  she 
had  resolved  to  ask  him  what  her  mother  had 
meant.  And  as  many  times,  when  the  Judge  had 
smiled  frankly  at  her,  or  raised  his  head  from 
his  newspaper  with  the  air  of  one  coming  up 
from  another  world,  the  words  had  been  stilled 
on  her  lips.  Her  father  was  a  good  man  —  the 
best  of  men.  She  asserted  this  to  herself  over 
and  over  again  fiercely.  There  was  no  man  like 
him  in  all  the  world.  Some  day  he  would  have 
the  courage  to  tell  all,  and  then  the  father  and 
daughter  would  walk  out  into  the  world  happier 
than  they  ever  had  been. 

It  was  a  lovely  morning.  The  pink  blossoms 
of  the  peach  floated  softly  through  the  air ,  the 
purple  haze,  that  hid  from  view  the  stems  of  the 


24       THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

distant  young  oaks,  gave  a  softness  to  the  land- 
scape, which  was  made  almost  too  brilliant  by  the 
dazzling  green  of  the  prairie  and  the  warm  tones 
of  the  peach  blossoms.  Eleanor  looked  from  the 
sitting-room  window,  and  forgot  her  sadness  at 
sight  of  the  scarlet  tulip  patch  on  the  lawn ;  she 
said  to  herself  that  the  sun  had  never  gilded  so 
splendid  a  scene,  arched  over  as  it  was  by  a  sky 
of  the  bluest  of  blues.  It  cheered  her,  and  doubts 
and  perplexities  rolled  away. 

Belinda,  the  servant  of  the  family,  entered  to 
gossip  a  while.  She  was  a  short  woman,  of  an  age 
which  was  beyond  forty ;  she  had  sharp  features, 
a  dyspeptic  look,  and  an  air  of  command  acquired 
by  her  rule  in  families  where  she  was  indispensable. 

"  Ain't  you  goin'  out  ?  "  she  demanded,  entering 
the  room  without  knocking.  "  You  may  as  well ; 
I  ain't  got  nothin'  for  you  to  do.  But  I  want  to 
say  one  thing,  Miss  Redwood.  I  ain't  goin'  to  have 
any  more  broiled  beefsteak  in  this  house.  It's 
flyin'  in  the  face  of  Providence  to  broil  what  the 
Lord  made  to  be  fried.  And  I  ought  to  know ; 
for  I  lived  in  a  minister's  family  six  years,  and  I 
sat  down  at  the  table  with  'em  every  clay.  There 
was  nothin'  stuck-up  about  them, —  not  but  what 
the  Judge  is  all  right." 

Eleanor  received  this  shot  at  herself  meekly. 
She  and  Belinda  were  not  entirely  congenial. 
Belinda  believed  in  the  old  democratic  conditions 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       25 

of  Redwood,  when  everybody  had  been  as  good  as 
anybody  else.  Belinda  felt  that  she  could  not  be 
displaced  from  the  Redwood  household.  The 
factories  swallowed  up  all  the  young  women  who 
might  have  entered  households  as  "  helps " 
nobody  in  Redwood  ever  spoke  of  servants ;  and  a 
"  girl,"  like  Belinda,  was  eagerly  competed  for. 

Eleanor  had,  in  her  youthful  zeal,  endeavored 
to  make  a  place  for  Belinda,  and  to  keep  her  in 
it,  much  to  the  Judge's  amusement.  She  tried  to 
induce  Belinda  to  wear  a  cap  in  the  morning  and 
a  white  apron  occasionally.  She  tried  to  banish 
the  fried  beefsteak  and  the  constant  bilious- 
looking  pie  which  appeared  every  day  in  the 
week.  She  politely  requested  Belinda  not  to 
laugh  out  loud  when  the  Judge  made  a  joke  at  the 
table,  and  by  no  means  to  contradict  guests. 
The  Judge  liked  to  have  Belinda  laugh  at  his 
jokes,  and  therefore  that  reform  was  not  possible. 
When  Mrs.  Montressor-Montague,  an  old  Red- 
woodian  who  had  married  in  New  York,  came  to 
luncheon  —  as  Eleanor  chose  to  call  dinner  for 
one  occasion  only  —  Belinda  cut  in  and  shocked 
that  great  lady  by  boldly  combating  one  of  her 
statements  just  as  the  soup  came  in.  This 
brought  things  to  a  crisis.  Eleanor  remonstrated 
with  Belinda.  That  valiant  woman  rose  in  her 
wrath. 

"I    ain't   a    Polander,"  she  said;    "nor  yet  a 


2P         THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Swede,  nor  yet  any  kind  of  a  f urriner.  And  when 
that  painted  hussy  from  a  Dimycratic  State 
laughed  at  Mrs.  Hayes  for  keeping  the  seipent's 
cup  out  of  the  White  House,  I  wasn't  goin'  to 
stand  it.  If  you  want  a  dummy  or  a  mummy, 
you've  got  to  get  a  furri.ner;  I'm  an  American 
citizen  and  a  hard-shell  Baptist,  and  my  tongue's 
my  own.  Not  but  what  I  might  have  stood  it,  if 
she  hadn't  said  that  when  she  was  here  Mrs. 
Eastwood  was  a  good  housekeeper.  That  riled 
me.  You  ought  to  see  Mrs.  Eastwood's  kitchen. 
I  lived  with  her  three  months.  I  ought  to 
know." 

The  result  of  this  was  that  Belinda's  wages 
were  raised,  and  Eleanor  could  only  hope  that  in 
future  visitors  would  not  "  rile  "  her. 

Belinda  came  in  this  morning  to  make  a 
declaration  of  war.  "  I  wanted  to  say,  Miss 
Redwood,  that  if  you're  goin'  to  have  refreshments 
handed  around  before  nine  o'clock  at  your  Coffee, 
I  can't  be  there.  We've  a  church  sociable  at 
half-past  seven,  and  I  can't  miss  it." 

Eleanor  sank  into  her  chair ;  the  world  became 
dark.     What    could    she    do    without    Belinda  ? 
"  Couldn't  you  stay  at  home  to-morrow  night  — 
just  this  once  ?  " 

Belinda  tightened  her  lips.  "  Dut}r's  duty  and 
principle's  principle.  We  young  ladies  of  the 
church  are  raising  funds  to  establish  a  Kinder- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        27 

garten  for  the  South  African  tribes.  Mr.  Stokes 
says  the  African  children  are  fearfully  neglected  ; 
though  I  don't  doubt  that  there  are  some  here  in 
Redwood  that  neglect  their  children  just  as  bad." 

"  Oh!  dear,"  said  Eleanor,  "what  shall  I  do  ?" 

Belinda's  face  relaxed,  and  she  gently  fingered 
the  curl  papers  in  her  thin  hair.  Eleanor's  abject- 
ness  was  delightful  to  her.  There  was  silence. 
At  last  Eleanor  announced  that  she  was  going  out. 

"  Where  to?  "  demanded  Belinda. 

"  To  the  Howard  House,  to  see  Mrs.  Bayard," 
the  young  girl  replied,  never  dreaming  of  refusing 
to  answer. 

"  Umph  !"  said  Belinda,  disapprovingly.  "  She 
ain't  no  housekeeper.  I  lived  with  her  a  month." 

Eleanor  put  on  her  hat  and  wrap,  with  an  air 
of  dejection,  while  Belinda  quietly  watched  her 
from  the  doorway. 

"  There  ain't  no  style  about  her,"  she  murmured 
to  herself.  "  If  she'd  just  put  her  hair  in  papers 
and  put  on  more  frills,  she  wouldn't  be  so  bad." 

"Tell  father  I  shall  not  be  home  to  dinner. 
I'll  have  to  look  for  somebody  to  help  me." 

"  I  just  wanted  to  ask  whether  you're  goin'  to 
have  tables  or  a  lap  supper.  Of  course  folks  will 
be  askin'  me.  Mrs.  Jobson  sent  her  husband  over 
to  ask  this  morning.  Folks  don't  want  to  wear 
their  best  dresses  if  it's  a  lap  supper  —  -  accidents 
sometimes  happen." 


28        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  Oh !  I  don't  know,"  Eleanor  replied,  wearily. 
"  I'll  ask  Laura  Bayard." 

Belinda  straightened  herself  up.  "Laura 
Bayard  ain't  worth  her  salt.  I  went  to  school 
with  her  mother,  and  a  more  shiftless  creature 
never  existed.  Why !  she  couldn't  make  soft-soap. 
If  Laura  Bayard  is  to  be  brought  in  with  her 
interferin',  I'll  stay  at  home  just  for  the  Judge's 
credit,  though  I  don't  know  what  Mr.  Stokes  will 
say.  Still,  he  knows  how  sacrificin'  I  am  —  I've 
told  him  often  enough."  She  wiped  away  an 
imaginary  tear,  and  sniffed. 

"Oh!  thank  you,  Belinda,"  exclaimed  Eleanor, 
brightening  up.  "  I  really  can't  do  without  you. 
If  you  think  we'd  better  have  little  tables,  you 
can  tell  the  man  to  send  them.  Mrs.  Montressor- 
Montague  admired  that  way  so  much  — 

Belinda's  face  clouded,  and  Eleanor  hastened 
to  pass  over  the  delicate  subject. 

"  I  must  go  to  order  the  flowers.  It's  very  kind 
of  you,  Belinda.  And  I'll  ask  father  to  let  you 
have  the  buggy  on  Sunday  afternoon." 

Belinda  smiled.  "  I  guess  the  Africans  will 
have  to  do  without  a  Kindergarten  for  a  week 
or  so,"  she  said  ;  "  and  I'll  just  pitch  in.  And  I 
don't  mind  how  tired  I  am  when  there's  a  duty 
before  me ;  and  I  think  professors  of  religion 
ought  to  feel  that  way.  You  just  go  out  and  tell 
that  Laura  Bayard  that  you've  got  somebody  in  this 
house  that  can  make  the  fur  fly." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       29 

Eleanor  found  Mrs.  Bayard  reading  a  novel  in 
a  room  on  the  third  floor  of  the  Howard  House. 
The  Howard  House  was  the  one  hotel  in  Red- 
wood, for  Redwood  did  not  much  need  a  hotel. 
There  was,  it  is  true,  an  ebb  and  flow  of  commer- 
cial travellers.  Other  visitors  to  the  town  gener- 
ally stayed  with  friends ;  for  the  Redwoodians 
were  very  hospitable,  and  visits  were  a  large  part 
of  their  routine  of  existence.  Eleanor  had  gone 
into  a  narrow  door,  labelled  "Ladies'  Entrance," 
and  ascended  an  oil-cloth-covered  staircase,  per- 
meated with  the  smell  of  the  hot  cakes  of  the 
past  winter.'  The  landing  on  which  she  paused 
before  knocking  at  her  friend's  room  was  covered 
with  a  green  and  red  carpet.  A  stove,  which  had 
been  partly  dismantled  of  its  pipe,  rested  against 
the  wall,  which  was  painted  a  dark  brown,  —  a 
more  cheerless  place  can  hardly  be  imagined  as 
the  entrance  to  a  "home."  Who  could  take  his 
ease  in  such  an  inn  ? 

Mrs.  Bayard's  sitting-room  was  painted  brown ; 
the  furniture  was  of  a  dingy  walnut  color ;  some 
photographs  in  a  pretty  case,  a  water-color  or  two, 
and  red  curtains  on  the  windows,  rather  redeemed 
the  dinginess  of  all  the  appointments.  Eleanor 
could  not  help  pitying  her  friend,  since  these  two 
rooms,  bereft  of  all  homeliness,  were  her  home. 

Laura  Bayard  was  attired  in  some  flimsy  mate- 
rial arranged  in  the  Japanese  manner,  and  glowing 


30        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

with  pink  and  green.  She  was  not  older  than 
Eleanor.  Her  eyes  were  small  and  blue,  her 
light-colored  skin  was  wrinkled  and  dry  from  the 
use  of  much  powder,  and  her  hair  was  of  that  tint 
produced  by  the  bleaching  process.  She  was  a 
very  pronounced  blonde,  and  she  was  considered 
a  great  beauty  in  Redwood. 

"  O,  Nora  !  "  she  cried,  kissing  her  friend  rapt- 
urously, "  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you.  This  book  is 
stupid.  I  begin  to  hate  Ibsen." 

"  I  should  think  you  would/'  said  Eleanor. 
"  Papa  read  one  of  his  plays  to  me.  They  teach 
a  very  bad  lesson." 

"  Oh !  my  dear,"  rejoined  Laura,  patting  her 
friend  gently  on  the  cheek,  with  a  superior  air, 
"lessons  have  gone  out  of  fashion.  Everything 
has  changed.  Ibsen  has  discovered  that  life  is 
nothing,  as  Schopenhauer  did  before  him ;  and 
that  the  main  thing  is  to  die  beautifully." 

"  O,  Laura ! "  said  Eleanor,  really  alarmed, 
"  how  can  you  talk  this  way  ?  Where  did  you 
learn  all  this  ?  " 

"  I've  been  reading  a  great  deal  lately.  I  haven't 
had  much  to  do  since  the  baby  died,  and  we've 
dropped  housekeeping.  Poor,  dear  little  baby." 

Eleanor  looked  away ;  she  saw  the  tears  com- 
ing into  Laura  Bayard's  eyes. 

"  And  to  think  that  old  Mrs.  Desmond  seemed 
to  understand  the  little  thing  better  than  I 
did  —  " 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        31 

"  Desmond !  "  said  Eleanor,  unconsciously. 

"  Why,  do  you  know  her  ?  " 

Eleanor  flushed  slightly.  "  Oh,  no  !  —  that  is, 
papa  has  asked  her  son  to  my  Coffee." 

Laura  looked  at  Eleanor  contemplatively.  "  It's 
not  a  bad  idea.  Pat  Desmond  is  a  clever  fellow, 
they  say.  What  made  him  do  it  —  politics  ?  " 

"  No !  "  replied  Eleanor  indignantly.  "  Papa  is 
above  that." 

Mrs.  Bayard  laughed  cynically.  "Are  you 
interested  in  this  young  Desmond  ?  Come,  tell 
me.  Let  us  have  a  good  talk." 

For  a  moment  Eleanor  felt  very  unhappy. 
The  situation  jarred  on  her  womanly  sensibility. 
She  felt  from  that  time  less  affection,  less  respect 
for  Laura.  "  Was  she  interested  in  this  young 
Desmond  ?  "  Yes,  she  was ;  but  how  could  Laura 
imagine  she  was  interested  in  that  way  ?  It  was 
a  shock  to  think  that  Laura  could  suspect  her  of 
consenting  to  invite  a  man  to  her  father's  house 
under  the  circumstances  which  were  evidently 
assigned  for  it  by  Laura. 

Laura  Bayard  misconstrued  her  pause.  Eleanor 
made  a  point  of  never  telling  the  smallest  untruth, 
and  she  was  utterly  unskilled  in  the  diplomatic 
art  of  evasion. 

"  Ah,  my  dear,"  she  said,  laughing,  "  I  am 
afraid  you've  lost  your  heart  to  that  good-looking 
young  Irishman.  It  is  queer  how  such  things 


32        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

happen.  And,  of  course,  if  you  take  him  up 
socially  here  in  Redwood,  everybody  else  will  fol- 
low. But  the  idea  of  Judge  Redwood's  daughter 
marrying  an  unknown  young  man,  brought  up 
among  the  factory  hands.  His  mother  is  a  good 
woman.  How  she  loved  that  little  baby  of  mine  ! 
She  baptized  it,  you  know.  I  couldn't  refuse 
her,  —  it  seemed  such  a  small  thing  to  grant  after 
all  her  kindness." 

Eleanor  was  silent.  She  felt  as  if  she  had  been 
insulted.  Her  cheeks  were  pale  now.  "What 
kind  of  a  world  was  it,"  she  asked  herself,  "  where 
such  interpretations  could  be  put  on  the  simplest 
action  ?  "  She  was  indignant  at  her  father.  Why 
had  he  permitted  her  to  invite  this  Mr.  Desmond  ? 
He  ought  to  have  protected  her  against  such  mis- 
conceptions. Then  she  remembered  that  the  Judge 
would  have  no  more  dreamed  of  interfering  with 
any  social  suggestions  of  hers  than  of  asking  to  be 
sent  as  minister  to  France.  Still,  she  said  to  her- 
self, very  unreasonably,  that  somebody  ought  to 
have  protected  her. 

"  I  can  recall  the  invitation,"  she  said. 

"  And  why  recall  it,  if  you  are  interested  in 
Mr.  Desmond  ?  " 

"  I  am  interested  in  the  Desmonds  —  yes.  I 
can't  tell  you  why,"  Eleanor  said,  frightened  that 
so  much  of  her  secret  had  escaped. 

Laura  looked  at  her  doubtfully.     "  And    why 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        33 

shouldn't  you  marry  him  if  you  like  him  ?  He  is 
a  Catholic,  to  be  sure ;  but  religion  doesn't  make 
much  difference  now.  We  are  all  just  what  our 
environment  makes  us.  The  main  thing  is  cul- 
ture and  the  intellectual  life.  But  American  hus- 
bands are  out  of  that ;  they  haven't  any  time  for 
the  intellectual  life.  So  if  young  Desmond  isn't 
too  ignorant,  you'd  not  be  worse  off  than  other 
women  in  Redwood.  Besides,  Eleanor,  it  is  a 
good  thing  for  a  man  to  have  religion  ;  it  keeps 
him  straight,"  added  Laura,  with  a  sigh.  "  If 
you  marry  this  Desmond,  make  him  live  up  to  his 
religion.  But  marriage  is  a  failure,  anyhow." 

Eleanor  flushed  and  paled  by  turns.  Living 
much  with  her  father  —  when  she  was  not  actively 
engaged  in  the  social  amusements  and  business  of 
the  town,  —  she  was  not  accustomed  to  this  frank 
discussion  of  her  possibilities.  She  had  thought 
of  marriage  in  a  distant  way,  as  something  very 
beautiful  and  sacred.  She  shrank,  she  knew  not 
why,  from  Laura  Bayard's  tone. 

"  I  should  think  it  would  be  a  failure,"  she 
said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  when  there  is  no  home  — 
and  you  feed  on  such  books  as  Ibsen's." 

Laura  laughed  and  kissed  her.  "  Preach  more," 
she  said.  "  I  wish  Harry  were  here  to  hear  you. 
How  can  we  have  a  home  ?  There  is  not  a  hired 
girl  to  be  had  in  all  Redwood.  I  shouldn't  have 
a  moment  for  culture  or  social  duty,  if  I  kept 
house.  A  woman  can't  be  a  drudge." 


34        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  I  should  think  that  we  might  do  what  our 
mothers  did." 

"  Impossible  !  What  would  you  do  without 
Belinda?" 

This  was  a  home  thrust ;  but  Eleanor  recovered 
from  it.  "  I  shouldn't  give  Coffees." 

Laura  laughed.  "  We  should  have  to  return  to 
the  quilting  festival  and  the  corn  husking ;  but 
the  Zeitgeist  will  not  let  us.  There  goes  the  bell ! 
Come  to  dinner  with  me.  I'm  lonely.  Harry  is 
away  —  ten  miles  up  the  railroad." 

Laura  smoothed  her  hair,  and  taking  Eleanor's 
arm,  led  her  down  to  the  dining-room  of  the 
hotel.  It  was  an  oblong  room,  dotted  with  tables. 
A  caster  and  several  bottles  —  among  which  those 
containing  ketchup  and  Worcestershire  sauce 
were  most  conspicuous  —  stood  in  the  centre  of 
each  table,  which  was  ornamented  with  a  bunch 
of  celery. 

Mrs.  Bayard  assumed  a  haughty  manner  as  she 
entered  the  room,  as  if  unconscious  of  her  pink 
and  green  splendor,  and  of  the  glances  of  two  or 
three  men  who  were  waiting  for  the  dinner  at  vari- 
ous tables.  A  young  woman,  with  a  large,  black 
"  bang  "  over  her  brow,  gracefully  approached  her 
and  said,  in  a  staccato  voice  : 

"  Roast  beef  —  giblets  —  fried  pork  —  pota- 
toes —  squash  —  tomatoes  —  rutabaga  —  mince- 
pie — apple-pie — tea  or  coffee — cabinet  pudding?  " 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        35 

The  orders  were  soon  given,  and  the  ladies 
were  confronted  with  a  bewildering  array  of  veiy 
little  dishes,  with  a  dab  of  something  in  each. 
Eleanor  went  back  mentally  to  the  table  at  home 
—  from  which  she  was  seldom  absent,  —  and 
thought  with  a  shudder  of  people  condemned  to 
this  semi-public  life. 

"  There  he  is,"  said  Laura  suddenly.  "  There's 
Patrick  Desmond." 

She  raised  her  eyes  involuntarily,  and  saw  a 
tall  young  man  neatly  attired  in  a  gray  suit.  He 
had  just  taken  off  his  hat  and  was  about  to  seat 
himself  at  a  table.  He  had  an  easy  and  graceful 
air,  and  his  face  had  a  very  pleasant  expression  as 
he  smiled  in  the  direction  of  the  clerk  near  the 
door.  His  eyes  met  Eleanor's ;  and  in  hers  he  saw 
a  flash  of  what  seemed  to  him  such  scorn  and  con- 
tempt that  he  lowered  his. 

Laura  had  watched  the  pantomime  with  the 
acute  interest  of  an  idle  woman.  "  A  mystery," 
she  thought.  "  I  must  find  out  all  about  it." 

Eleanor  had  averted  her  eyes  coldly ;  and  Des- 
mond, boiling  with  rage,  was  obliged  to  listen  to 
the  voice  of  the  siren,  who  said  : 

"  Roast  beef —  giblets  —  fried  pork  —  " 


36        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

in. 

"  Who  knows  most  waits  until  he  knows." 

—  Italian  Provero. 

WHEN  Patrick  Desmond  left  the  Howard 
House  after  he  had  exchanged  defiant  glances 
with  Eleanor  Redwood,  he  felt  as  some  citizen 
of  Paris  might  have  felt  in  1790,  if  the  Princesse 
de  Lambelle  had  glanced  down  upon  him  with 
scorn  from  her  aristocratic  height. 

Somebody  has  said  :  "  I  have  occasionally  met 
with  humility  among  the  rich,  never  among  the 
poor."  Taking  this  saying  for  what  it  is  worth  — 
and  it  seems  rather  harsh,  —  we  may  premise  that, 
as  a  rule,  the  poor  man  is  prouder  than  his  rich 
brother.  And  no  doubt  the  wretched  Parisian 
who  caught  the  head  of  the  Princesse  de  Lambelle 
on  his  pike  could  be  really  more  insolent  and 
arrogant  than  she  had  ever  dreamed  of  being. 

Eleanor  Redwood  was  no  princess ;  she  was.  not 
even  an  aristocrat,  though,  like  most  American 
girls  who  have  read  many  imported  novels,  she 
would  have  been  if  she  knew  how.  She  was 
neither  arrogant  nor  insolent.  But  Desmond 
read  both  these  hateful  attributes  in  her  eyes. 
And  in  his,  too,  which  had  only  been  amazed  at 
first  by  her  flash  of  defiance,  she  read  haughti- 
ness and  contempt.  His  eyes  said  to  her :  "I 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        3 

know  how  false  you  are.  Go,  leave  your  comfort 
and  luxury,  and  give  me  the  place  that  is  mine. 
Go,  if  you  are  not  utterly  worthless,  since  I  re- 
frain from  forcing  you  to." 

"  Oh  !  I  hate  him,"  Eleanor  murmured,  half- 
aloud.  For  a  second  she  had  forgotten  the  pres- 
ence of  Laura  Bayard. 

"Hate  whom?"  demanded  Mrs.  Bayard,  who 
had  been  watching  her  intently. 

"Oh!  was  I  speaking?  —  it  was  nothing,"  re- 
-  plied  Eleanor,  nervously.  "  I  am  absent-minded, 
—  that  is,  the  responsibility  of  this  Coffee,  you 
know.  And  Belinda  is  so  queer" 

Mrs.  Bayard  smiled.  "  You  hate  Belinda  ?  — 
I  understand.  So  do  I.  But  what  do  you  think 
of  Mr.  Desmond  ?  " 

Eleanor,  unaccustomed  to  hide  her  feelings, 
started,  and  then  looked  away  from  her  compan- 
ion. "  I  don't  think  of  Mr.  Desmond  at  all.  I 
don't  see  why  I  should." 

Mrs.  Bayard  was  silent.  She  watched  the  color 
subsiding  from  Desmond's  face.  He  gulped  a 
cup  of  coffee,  took  a  small  piece  of  bread,  and 
left  the  room. 

"  He  looks  as  if  he  had  been  hit  hard,"  she  said 
to  herself.  "  But  what  can  it  mean  ?  I  must 
find  out." 

A  look  at  Eleanor's  face  was  enough  to  tell  her 
that  questions  would  be  useless.  Eleanor  said 


38         THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

nothing  for  some  time,  she  played  with  the  con- 
tents of  all  the  little  dishes,  and  wished  with  all 
her  heart  that  she  were  home,  in  her  own  room. 
She  suddenly  realized  that  Laura  Bayard  was 
not  congenial  to  her.  The  dingy  room  with  its 
mingled  odors,  Laura's  pearl-powder  sown  in  the 
wrinkles  of  her  old-young  face,  her  garish  dress, 
her  cynical  prattle,  sickened  Eleanor.  That  glance 
from  Desmond's  clear  eyes  had  made  her  feel 
mean  and  commonplace.  And  the  amiable  dis- 
belief insinuated  in  half  a  dozen  ways  by  Laura 
as  to  her  indifference  to  Desmond  irritated  her 
extremely. 

At  last  the  dinner  was  over  and  Eleanor  was 
heartily  thankful.  Mrs.  Bayard  bustled  upstairs, 
chattering  all  the  way.  Eleanor  was  silent ;  she 
felt  very  much  alone.  On  her  way  up  to  Mrs. 
Bayard's  room  she  asked  herself  whether  anybody 
in  the  world  was  so  much  alone.  Where  on  earth 
was  there  one  to  whom  she  could  go  for  direction, 
—  one  in  whom  she  could  entirely  confide  ?  Laura 
Bayard  had  been  a  school  friend  of  hers,  a  gay, 
flippant  girl,  with  a  habit  of  gushing,  and  also  a 
habit  of  flirting.  Still,  Eleanor,  probably  because 
Laura  had  always  expressed  intense  affection  for 
herself,  had  looked  on  her  as  "  good-hearted." 
But  marriage  had  brought  Laura's  character  out ; 
she  had  married  Harry  Bayard,  who  was  employed 
in  the  clerical  department  of  the  great  New  York 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        39 

Midland.  Laura  had  been  brought  up  to  amuse 
herself.  In  Redwood  she  was  described  by  that 
horrible  phrase  "society  girl.''  And  as  her  par- 
ents were  of  limited  means,  and  her  husband  of 
limited  means,  she,  with  her  entire  inability  to 
keep  house  and  her  love  for  society,  had  found 
marriage  a  failure.  What  he  found  it  was  shown 
by  his  constant  absence  from  home. 

Just  at  this  time  there  was  probably  no  one 
whom  Laura  envied  more  than  Eleanor.  Under 
all  her  careless  prattle  there  was  hidden  a  dreadful 
perplexity. 

"  This  is  the  first  day  I  have  dined  at  the  hotel 
this  week,"  she  said.  "  I  have  been  out  at  lunch- 
eon, Tea  or  Coffee  every  day." 

"  And  your  husband  ?  "  said  Eleanor,  awaken- 
ing from  her  own  thoughts. 

Laura  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  Oh !  he  gets 
on." 

Eleanor  was  silent.  No,  she  could  not  trust  so 
sacred  a  secret  with  this  woman. 

"  Does  your  father  give  you  a  large  allowance  ?  " 
asked  Laura,  with  apparent  aimlessness. 

"  As  much  as  I  like,"  answered  Eleanor ;  "  but 
I  don't  want  much.  I  always  give  him  an  account 
of  everything  I  spend." 

Laura's  heart  sank.  How  could  she  ask  such 
an  absurdly  honest  girl  as  Eleanor  to  give  her  a 
loan  and  to  conceal  it  from  her  father  ?  And  yet 


40        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

this  was  what  Laura  Bayard  most  wanted  at  that 
moment.  A  long  bill  for  the  costumes  hi  which 
she  had  dazzled  Redwood  during  the  past  winter 
had  just  come ;  and,  what  was  worse,  she  could 
not  secure  certain  fascinating  articles  of  spring 
garb  until  it  was  paid.  Her  husband  had  quar- 
relled about  it  in  the  morning.  He  had  declared 
that  he  could  not  pay  it,  and  accused  her  of  caring 
for  nothing  but  dress  and  novels.  She  had  re- 
torted by  a  charge  that  he  drank ;  and  then,  in- 
furiated, he  had  said  that  it  was  well  their  child 
had  died ;  if  he  had  lived  he  would  have  neither  a 
home  nor  a  mother.  This  had  cut  her  to  the  quick ; 
for  she  felt  that  in  her  rage  for  social  dissipation 
she  had  neglected  the  child.  She  would  pay  this 
bill  herself  or  die.  She  would  attire  herself  in 
all  possible  splendor  for  the  spring  campaign  and 
secure  an  invitation  to  New  York,  where  her  sister 
Elaine  lived.  She  would  amuse  herself;  she 
would  live  a  broader  life.  She  would  let  Harry 
shift  for  himself ;  he  deserved  it ;  she  was  disap- 
pointed in  him. 

She  ran  all  this  over  in  her  mind  while  Eleanor 
sat  looking  out  the  window.  In  the  old  days  the 
two  girls  had  often  sat  silent,  holding  speech  at 
times  unnecessary.  As  the  clock  struck  one 
Eleanor  made  a  movement  to  go;  she  must  see 
about  the  flowers  for  the  decoration  of  her  rooms. 
Tbe  thought  of  the  flowers  brought  a  little  smile 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        41 

to  her  face  at  once.  She  enjoyed  by  anticipation 
the  pleasure  of  choosing  them. 

"  You  will  come  early,  Laura.  You  may  need 
to  amend  my  taste." 

"  I  shall  come  as  soon  as  Harry  gets  home.  I'd 
go  without  him  if  I  wasn't  afraid  that  people 
would  talk.  And  so  you  will  not  tell  me  your 
secret  about  Mr.  Desmond  ?  " 

"  No,"  Eleanor  said,  startled.  The  instant  she 
had  uttered  the  word  she  saw  a  look  of  triumph 
in  Laura's  face. 

"  Ah,  there  is  a  secret,  then,"  Laura  said  to 
herself.  "  Good-by  ! "  and  she  kissed  Eleanor 
effusively. 

Desmond  spent  a  bad  afternoon  over  his  books 
in  the  office  of  the  great  factory  in  which  he  was 
employed.  He  declared  that  he  would  not  go  to 
Judge  Redwood's  to  be  sneered  at ;  he  would 
leave  the  place, —  he  would  not  leave  the  place ; 
he  pictured  several  scenes  in  which  Eleanor 
Redwood  figured  as  a  suppliant  at  his  feet ;  he 
saw  himself  granting  her  a  wonderful  favor, — 
saving  her  father's  life,  and  then  saying,  "  This  is 
the  man  you  scorned  ;  he  scorns  you  now."  But 
there  was  not  much  satisfaction  in  this.  When 
the  clock  struck  six  he  had  determined  to  go,  and, 
if  occasion  arose,  overwhelm  everybody  by  his 
insolence. 

"  I  will  make  her  cower  before  me,"  he  said  to 


42        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

himself.  "  I  will  teach  them  to  look  down  en  me, 
I  who  am  of  purer  and  stronger  brain  than  any 
of  them." 

In  the  meantime  Mrs.  Bayard  sent  a  card  of 
regret  to  one  of  those  daily  afternoon  Teas,  which 
she  was  sure  would  bore  her.  She  went  to  placate 
Belinda,  stung  to  this  action  by  a  feverish  desire 
to  escape  her  own  thoughts  and  a  determination 
to  find  out  Eleanor's  secret  if  possible. 

"  Eleanor  is  in  love  with  young  Desmond  and 
her  father  objects.  If  I  get  at  the  details  I  may 
frighten  some  money  out  of  her.  I  am  desperate. 
I  am  done  with  friendship  and  love  —  even  with 
Heaven,"  she  said,  bitterly.  "  What  a  hypocrite 
Eleanor  is,"  she  added.  "  But  she  can't  deceive 
me.  She'll  marry  this  Desmond  before  the  year 
is  out." 

It  is  remarkable  that  shallow-minded  people 
never  get  below  the  surface  indications  of  their 
friends'  characters.  Mrs.  Bayard  knew  that 
Eleanor  was  very  truthful  on  all  ordinary  occa- 
sions, but  she  firmly  believed  that  there  was  some 
vein  of  deceit  in  her ;  she  could  not  imagine  that 
there  was  anybody  in  existence  with  nothing  to 
conceal.  She  was  sure  now  that  Eleanor  had 
become  engaged  to  Patrick  Desmond,  and  that 
the  old  Judge,  and  eveiybody  even  remotely  con- 
cerned, were  to  be  kept  in  the  dark.  She  was 
certain  that  Eleanor  would  never  get  her  father's 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        43 

consent  to  a  marriage  with  Desmond.  Now  if, 
through  the  testimony  of  Belinda,  she  could 
frighten  Eleanor,  she  felt  that  her  deliverance 
from  debt  would  be  secure.  Eleanor  would  not 
dare  to  refuse  any  demand  for  a  reasonable  amount 
she  might  make.  She  had  few  scruples  about 
this  ;  she  said  to  herself,  when  her  conscience  gave 
her  a  last  expiring  sting,  that  "  preservation  was 
the  first  law  of  nature."  The  worst  of  her  con- 
dition of  mind  was,  that  frivolit}^  had  so  gradually 
produced  it  that  she  did  not  know  how  low  she 
had  sunk. 

Belinda  was  in  the  act  of  obtaining  a  great 
deal  of  enjoyment  out  of  her  household  troubles, 
when  Mrs.  Bayard  arrived  at  Judge  Redwood's. 
She  had  sent  for  two  temporary  "  helps,"  and 
their  stupidity  and  blundering  were  giving  her 
exquisite  delight,  though  she  was  apparently  suf- 
fering tortures.  In  answer  to  Mrs.  Bayard's  ring 
she  went  to  the  door,  a  green  veil  tied  over  her 
head  and  under  her  chin,  and  a  most  elaborate 
expression  of  woe  on  her  features. 

"  Oh  !  it's  you,"  she  said,  holding  to  the  knob. 

Mrs.  Bayard  took  no  notice  of  her  tone.  "  Is 
Eleanor  in  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  You  ought  to  know  where  she  is  better  than  I 
do.  She's  off  gallivanting  somewhere,  while  I  am 
wearing  out  my  life  with  those  two  jades,  that  are 
not  worth  their  salt.  They  ought  to  be  in  the 


44         THE  SUCCESS  GF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

factories,  —  they  are  only  fit  for  that  kind  of  slip- 
shod work." 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  manage  to  do  all  you 
have  to  do,  Belinda,"  said  Mrs.  Bayard,  diplomat- 
ically. "I  thought  while  I  was  here  that  you 
might  give  me  some  ideas  about  helping  the  Kin- 
dergarten for  the  little  Africans." 

Belinda  disliked  Mrs.  Bayard,  and  she  was  quite 
willing  to  express  her  dislike ;  but  not  if  it  might 
damage  the  prospects  of  the  little  Africans.  She 
smiled  a  grim  smile.  "  Laura  might  be  deceitful," 
she  said  to  herself,  "  but  she  could  help  the  Kin- 
dergarten, if  she  wanted  to,  all  the  same." 

"  Come  in  a  few  minutes  —  do,"  she  said.  "  I'll 
let  those  two  creatures  in  the  kitchen  idle  away 
their  time  for  a  few  minutes,  while  I  tell  you 
about  dear  Mr.  Stokes'  plans.  You  have  so  much 
influence,"  she  added,  "  that  you  could  just  put 
the  Kindergarten  on  its  feet,  if  you  would." 

Mrs.  Bayard  smiled  and  accepted  Belinda's  in- 
vitation. The  two  entered  the  sitting-room,  and 
Mrs.  Bayard  congratulated  herself  on  having 
struck  at  Belinda's  weak  point ;  another  of  her 
weak  points  was,  she  knew,  an  intense  curiosity 
about  the  affairs  of  those  immediately  around  her. 

"  Very  well,  Belinda ;  I  shall  not  apologize  for 
interrupting  you.  A  housekeeper  like  you  is  never 
so  hurried  but  that  she  can  take  a  little  time ; 
that's  the  beauty  of  order.  But  first,  Belinda, 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        45 

before  we  talk  of  the  Kindergarten,  who  are 
these  Desmonds  ?  " 

"  Nobody  !  "  said  Belinda,  emphatically.  "  Not 
that  Mrs.  Desmond  ain't  a  good  woman,  but  she 
never  had  no  education  ;  and,  besides,  she's  Irish." 

Mrs.  Bayard  shook  her  head  sadly.     "  Things 

•    are  changing,  —  the  Irish  are  coming  to  the  top. 

I  know,  Belinda,  that  you've  said  things  about 

nay  housekeeping,  and  even  about  my  mother's; 

they've  been  repeated  to  me ;  but  — 

"  I  did  say  that  your  mother  was  rather  slack," 
answered  Belinda,  tightening  her  lips ;  "  and  I'm 
sure  she  must  have  been,  or  she'd  have  taught 
you  how  to  make  decent  bread.  Why,  Miss  Jenks 
says  that  your  husband  said  — ' 

"Never  mind;  I  forgive  it  all,"  said  Mrs.  Bay- 
ard. *'  What  do  you  know  about  the  Desmonds  ?  " 

"  Why,  I  know  that  Mrs.  Desmond  took  care 
of  Mrs.  Redwood  many  a  time  before  they  could 
afford  to  hire  me;  and  I  know  that  Mrs.  Des- 
mond often  kept  the  peace  between  Mrs.  Red- 
wood and  the  Judge.  She  was  queer,  was  Mrs. 
Redwood;  she  was  a  Waldron,  you  know.  Look 
here,  Laury ! "  cried  Belinda,  aflame  with  interest, 
"jest  you  wait  until  I  come  downstairs,  and  you 
will  see  the  curiousest  letter." 

Belinda  ran  upstairs.  When  she  returned  she 
bore  a  small  tin  box  in  her  hand ;  frqm  it  she 
took  a  page  of  letter-paper,  yellow  and  creased. 


46        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  Read  that,"  she  said.  "  Mrs.  Desmond  dropped 
it  one  day,  and  I  picked  it  up.  That's  about  all 
that's  strange  I  know  about  the  Desmonds,  —  I 
could  tell  you  more  about  other  folks.  But  I  don't 
mind  showing  you  this,  for  the  sake  of  dear  Mr. 
Stokes'  Kindergarten." 

Mrs.  Bayard  languidly  took  the  piece  of  yellow 
paper.  She  would  encourage  Belinda  in  this 
nonsense  ;  it  might  lead  to  something.  But  when 
she  had  read  the  note  three  times,  she  looked  up 
at  Belinda  and  said  in  a  cool,  hard  voice  : 

"  I'll  keep  this.  Count  on  me  to  form  a  ladies' 
committee  for  the  Kindergarten." 

"  Oh !  keep  it,"  said  Belinda,  delighted.  "  But 
don't  say  I  give  it  to  you.  It  is  only  some  of 
Clarissa  Waldron's  foolishness  —  I  hear  them 
hussies  breaking  something  in  the  kitchen.  I'll 
be  back." 

Belinda  flew  off.  Mrs.  Bayard,  with  a  sparkle 
in  her  eye,  read  the  yellowed  note  again  : 

MRS.  DESMOND  :  — Guard  my  son  as  you  will  guard 
your  life,  and  I  will  cherish  your  child  until  I  can  speak 
out  to  tell  of  the  wickedness  of  the  man  who  hates  me 
because  I  am  what  I  am.  Some  day  the  truth  will  out, 
and  my  boy  will  have  his  own. 

CLARISSA  REDWOOD. 

Mrs.  Bayard  laughed  softly  to  herself.  "  Ah," 
she  said,  "I  shall  get  all  the  money  I  want  from 
the  Judge,  without  bothering  Eleanor.  Here's  a 
mystery  !  I  love  Belinda !  " 


TIIE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       47 


IV. 
/ 

The  life  that  does  not  rise  must  lower  go ; 

Above  its  level,  so  the  doctors  say, 
A  stream  of  water  cannot  higher  flow, 

Nor  make  its  way. 

—"The  Rose  of  Ghent." 

MRS.  BAYARD  could  make  nothing  of  the  note 
that  lay  in  her  hand,  and  yet  she  felt  glad  to  have 
it.  Between  its  lines  was  concealed,  she  was  sure, 
something  which  the  Judge  would  probably  wish 
to  keep  secret.  There  was  a  mystery  here,  and  a 
mystery  which  might  be  coined  into  money ;  and 
at  this  time  money  was  the  one  thing  Laura  Bay- 
ard desired.  She  did  not  consider  herself  bad: 
she  believed  in  her  heart  that  she  was  as  good  as 
most  people.  She  was  not  inclined  to  do  evil  for 
the  love  of  it,  but  she  had  never  been  taught 
restraint ;  and  as  she  had  naturally  no  nobility  of 
character,  she  became,  without  any  resistance, 
mean  and  treacherous  under  temptation.  If  she 
had  the  cultivated  conscience  which  the  Catholic 
has,  even  when  he  is  not  naturally  good,  and 
which  supplies  the  place  of  natural  high-minded- 
ness,  she  would  have  hesitated  before  the  spec- 
tacle of  her  own  baseness. 

For  noble  aims,  she  had  the  "  society  "  standards 
of  her  town ;  for  the  confessional,  the  gossip  and 
scandal  of  a  circle  of  women  who  were  as  petty 


48        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

as  they  were  unrefined ;  for  great  literature,  the 
popular  novel.  Eleanor's  example  had  brought 
out  the  best  of  her  for  a  time ;  she  was  rather 
afraid  of  Eleanor,  and  she  had  hidden  the  worst. 
It  must  be  admitted  that  her  husband  had  not 
elevated  her ;  she  might  have  improved  him :  he 
was  perhaps  capable  of  it.  To  be  well  dressed,  to 
outshine  their  neighbors,  to  be  amused,  were  the 
only  aims  they  had ;  and  Laura  did  not  care  for 
anything  higher. 

Marriage,  in  her  case,  had  proved  a  delusion. 
She  had  expected  ease,  and  even  luxury,  and  the 
avoidance  of  all  irksome  duties ;  besides,  she  had 
no  idea  of  the  value  of  money,  by  which  these 
things  are  bought.  The  future  life  had  no  attrac- 
tion for  her ;  it  was  too  far  off  ;  she  was  not  sure 
whether  she  believed  in  it  or  not ;  at  any  rate,  she 
realized  that  she  must  have  money  to  enjoy  this. 
She  was  the  product  of  a  false  and  systemless 
education.  There  were  many  women  like  her  in 
Redwood,  and  she  was  not  the  worst  of  them.  In 
her  earlier  life  her  ideals  had  been  sentimental ; 
now  she  had  no  ideals  at  all.  If  she  had  been 
taught  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  hell,  it  might 
have  kept  her  from  many  sins  she  committed.  As 
it  was,  the  vague  religion  of  sweetness  and  light 
which  she  heard  occasionally  preached  had  no 
effect  on  her  life.  She  had  the  desire  to  appear 
young  as  long  as  possible,  and  to  be,  as  she 
d  it,  in  the  social  swim. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       49 

After  a  time  Belinda  came  back,  flushed  with 
triumph.  "  I  tell  you,"  she  said,  "  I  shall  have 
things  in  ship-shape  by  to-morrow  night.  There 
ain't  a  woman  in  town  that  won't  envy  my  supper. 
Not  but  what  I  feel  my  sacrifice  —  for  I've  got  to 
give  up  Mr.  Stokes'  meeting  for  it ;  but  then,  I 
know  that  if  anything  went  wrong  in  this  house 
I'd  be  blamed  for  it.  And  now,  Mrs.  Bayard,  what 
will  you  do  for  the  Kindergarten  ? '' 

Mrs.  Bayard  smiled.  "  Come,  Belinda,  let  us 
understand  each  other.  You  know  I  can't  excite 
much  interest  in  a  Kindergarten  for  the  Africans. 
People  might  give  them  Bibles  or  clothes,  but  a 
Kindergarten  seems  quite  too  luxurious." 

"  You  want  to  back  out  ?  "  cried  Belinda,  grimly. 
"  Give  me  that  letter,  then." 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Mrs.  Bayard  ;  "  I  want  you 
to  be  reasonable.  There  was  a  time  when  Bap- 
tists and  Methodists  would  send  money  anywhere 
and  for  anything,  if  the  name  of  the  heathen 
were  mentioned  ;  but  times  have  changed.  And, 
besides,  what's  the  use  of  converting  the  heathen  ? 
The  Andover  people  say  they'll  get  to  heaven 
anyhow,  and  nobody  believes  in  hell.  The  truth 
is,  Mr.  Stokes  can't  make  much  headway  with  any 
such  absurd  idea  as  a  Kindergarten  for  Africans." 

"Why  not?"  asked  Belinda.  "If  people  will 
give  money  for  sending  Bibles  to  Eye-talians 
that  can't  read,  why  won't  they  help  the  poor 
African  child?  " 


50        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICE   DESMOND. 

"  My  dear  Belinda,  they  will  help  the  African 
child,  but  not  the  Kindergartens.  Mr.  Stokes 
made  a  mistake  in  starting  that  movement.  Why, 
we  haven't  even  a  Kindergarten  for  white  children 
in  Redwood." 

Belinda  eyed  Mrs.  Bayard  doubtfully.  The 
truth  was  that  she  had  accepted  the  Kindergar- 
ten scheme  on  the  authority  of  her  director,  Mr. 
Stokes.  Mr.  Stoker  was  studying  for  the  minis- 
try, and  he  was  a  great  authority  among  the  peo- 
ple of  Belinda's  church. 

"  We've  got  to  do  something,"  she  said.  "  The 
Methodists  are  ahead  of  us  now  in  church  work, 
and  we've  got  to  do  something." 

"The  Kindergarten  will  not  work.  Besides, 
people  are  rather  tired  of  the  heathen,  particular!} 
as  the  ministers  are  all  saying  that  everybody  wil 
be  saved  anyhow." 

"  Well,  they  won't,"  snapped  Belinda. 

"  I  don't  know,  —  I  haven't  any  infallible  Mr. 
Stokes  to  tell  me  ;  but  it  is  bad  business  for  people 
interested  in  foreign  missions  to  say  so.  I  remem- 
ber a  time  when  Africa  was  all  the  rage,  and  any 
entertainment  for  any  kind  of  a  pagan  was  sure  to 
succeed.  Now,  as  you  have  been  so  kind  as  to 
give  me  this  letter,  I  tell  you  what  I  will  do. 
I'll  start  a  concert  as  soon  as  the  Minuet  of  the 
Nations  is  over,  to  help  Mr.  Stokes  through  his 
last  two  years  at  college.  He  can't  go  on,  simply 
because  he  hasn't  the  money." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       51 

Belinda's  eyes  brightened.  "He  is  a  good 
young  man.  And  if  you  think  we  can't  manage 
the  Kindergarten,  that  will  do  just  as  well.  I 
don't  care  what  we  do,  so  Mr.  Stokes  is  in  it." 

"  We'll  talk  of  that  later.  And  now,  how  did 
you  get  this  note  ?  " 

"Didn't  I  tell  you?  Mrs.  Desmond  let  it  fall 
one  day,  and  I  picked  it  up.  I  didn't  trouble 
much  about  it.  I  thought  it  was  only  one  of  the 
Waldron  ways,  —  Clarissa  was  full  of  '  ways.'  I 
believe  she  read  too  many  novels.  And  now, 
Laury,  I  never  ^aid  much  against  you,  and  I  want 
you  to  stick  to  your  promise.  If  you  and  some 
more  ladies  of  Redwood  take  up  Mr.  Stokes,  he's 
made,  —  I  know  that.  I  want  you  to  promise 
now,  for  the  Judge  will  be  in  soon  ;  he  is  writing 
a  paper  for  some .  law  magazine,  and  he  always 
comes  home  at  half-past  two  o'clock.  I  don't 
know  that  I  was  right  to  give  you  that  note,  but 
I  didn't  think  it  made  much  difference.  And 
you  seemed  to  want  to  know  about  the  Desmonds  ; 
and  every  scrap  counts,  you  know,  sometimes." 

"  How  would  you  like  young  Desmond  to  marry 
Eleanor  ?  " 

"  Law  sakes  !  How  foolish  you  do  talk.  The 
Judge  would  never  consent  to  it.  Why,  he  is  the 
most  prominent  man  in  Redwood,  and  Patrick 
Desmond  is  nobody.  The  idea !  " 

Laura  made  no    reply.     Eleanor,    then,    must 


52        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

know  of  some  mysterious  relationship  of  her 
mother  with  the  Desmonds.  There  was  nothing 
in  the  supposition  that  Eleanor  was  sentimentally 
interested  in  Desmond;  she  must  dismiss  that. 
The  question  now  was  how  to  use  this  note  to  the 
best  advantage.  She  wanted  time  to  think. 

"  I'll  wait  for  Eleanor.  Count  on  me  in  the 
Stokes  matter,"  she  said  to  Belinda. 

"I  do  say,"  Belinda  remarked,  leaving  the 
room,  "  that  Eleanor  Redwood  has  her  faults ;  but 
if  a  match  could  be  made  between  her  and  Mr. 
Stokes,  I  wouldn't  object.  She  has  the  money 
and  he  has  the  brains  ;  though  I  must  say  she's  too 
high-flown  for  a  minister's  wife." 

Mi's.  Bayard  did  not  hear  her.  She  went  to  the 
window  and  looked  out  at  the  lawn,  splendid  in 
the  just  departing  glory  of  noonday.  The  scene 
did  not  refresh  her  as  it  had  refreshed  Eleanor. 
In  fact,  she  did  not  see  it.  The  tulips  glowed  in 
vain  for  her,  and  the  soft  green  turf  might  have 
been  snowed  under  for  all  she  cared,  A  viciously 
selfish  habit  of  mind,  never  resisted,  had  gradually 
blinded  her  to  all  in  the  world  that  did  not  directly 
concern  herself. 

She  twirled  the  note  in  her  fingers,  and  asked 
herself  over  and  over  again  what  it  meant.  Had  the 
Redwoods  and  the  Desmonds  exchanged  children, 
as  the  custom  of  the  melodramatic  stage  often 
demands  ?  Laura  shrugged  her  shoulders  at  this ; 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        53 

and  yet,  she  said  to  herself,  nothing  was  more 
probable  in  real  life  than  the  improbable.  At  her 
age  and  with  her  opportunities,  there  was  no 
scandal  in  Redwood  for  many  years  back  of  which 
she  did  not  know.  She  had  never  heard  of  any 
quarrel  in  the  Judge's  household,  although  Mrs. 
Redwood  had  been  generally  pronounced  "  queer." 
She  knit  her  brows.  What  could  it  mean? 
Anything  ?  Yes,  there  must  be  something  behind 
it  all ;  for  there  was  Eleanor's  evident  interest  in 
Patrick  Desmond. 

Again  she  applied  herself  to  the  consideration 
of  the  worn,  yellow  piece  of  paper,  written  in  a 
nervous,  undecided  hand.  It  could  only  mean 
that  somebody  had  forced  Mrs.  Redwood  to 
exchange  her  child  for  the  child  of  another.  She 
could  not  avoid  feeling  how  preposterous  such  a 
supposition  was.  And  the  conclusion  that  Eleanor 
Redwood  was  really  Mrs.  Desmond's  daughter, 
and  Patrick  Desmond  the  son  of  Judge  Redwood, 
seemed  even  more  preposterous.  Again  and  again 
she  read  the  letter.  Again  and  again  she  asked 
herself  what  could  be  the  motive  for  such  an 
exchange.  How  could  it  have  been  accomplished, 
and  who  could  have  forced  Mrs.  Redwood  to  make 
it?  The  Judge?  But  why? 

The  more  Mrs.  Bayard  thought  of  the  complica- 
tion, the  more  unreal  it  seemed  to  become.  At  any 
rate,  here  were  the  words  written  by  Judge  Red' 


54        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

wood's  late  wife.  The  question  was,  How  could 
they  be  profitably  utilized?  The  Judge  would 
not  want  such  a  note  to  remain  in  the  hands  of  a 
person  outside  of  his  own  family.  Would  he  buy 
the  letter? 

At  this  question  a  gleam  of  her  better  self 
played  over  Laura's  mind.  Vanity,  frivolity, 
scepticism,  the  outcome  of  the  false  philosophy  of 
her  social  life,  had  not  entirely  destroyed  all  her 
womanliness.  The  Judge  had  been  her  hero  when 
she  was  a  little  girl.  He  had  petted  her,  he  had 
told  her  stories ;  in  fact,  he  had  made  her  share 
all  the  amusements  of  his  daughter,  —  amusements 
which  had  been  more  costly  than  her  own  people 
could  afford.  She  had  no  memories  of  him  but 
pleasant  memories.  How  could  she  dare  to 
attempt  to  bargain  with  him  for  a  letter  which, 
as  an  honorable  woman,  even  if  unbound  by  the 
ties  of  gratitude,  she  ought  gladly  restore  to  him  ? 

The  vision  of  her  hopeless  debts,  and  the  future 
which  depended  on  the  payment  of  those  debts, 
arose  before  her.  She  must  have  money.  "  Every- 
body for  himself."  How  often  had  she  heard 
that  quoted  in  a  society  where  business  meant  a 
pagan  disregard  of  every  right  except  that  of 
getting  a  certain  amount  of  money  from  every 
human  being  with  whom  a  man  had  "business 
relations."  She  said  to  herself  that  she  would 
in  a  few  minutes  be  in  business  relations  with 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK   DESMOND.        55 

Judge  Redwood.  She  called  to  her  mind  all  the 
similar  situations  in  the  novels  she  had  read ;  she 
walked  over  to  the  long  mirror  between  the  back 
windows  and  tried  to  assume  the  attitude  of  a 
glittering  adventuress.  She  took  off  her  glove  to 
show  the  half  a  dozen  rings  on  her  fingers,  with 
that  theatrical  taste  which  had  been  cultivated  in 
her  by  much  reading  of  the  current  novels. 
There  was  such  a  mixture  of  falseness  and  reality 
in  her  mind  that  she  could  not  divide  one  from 
the  other.  She  flashed  her  hand  before  the  glass, 
with  the  diamonds  glittering  in  her  rings  and  the 
note  held  between  her  thumb  and  fingers.  She 
felt  for  the  moment  like  a  bold,  bad  adventuress 
of  the  popular  romances. 

A  key  turned  in  the  lock ;  the  Judge  crossed 
the  hall  and  entered  the  room.  He  was  as  genial 
and  pleasant-looking  as  usual. 

"Ah!  Laura,"  he  said,  shaking  hands.  "How 
young  you  look.  And  I  am  sure  you  were  just 
saying  so  to  yourself.  Before  the  glass,  —  eh  ?  I 
shouldn't  have  come  in  here,  but  I  wanted  to  find 
Eleanor.  I  must  leave  for  Eaglescliff  at  2:50.  Is 
she  at  home  ?  " 

"  I  am  waiting  for  her,"  Mrs.  Bayard  answered. 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  her  to  have  my  bag 
packed  and  to  send  it  up  by  the  4:30.  I  haven't 
time  to  wait  for  it  now.  You  young  people  will 
not  miss  me  at  Eleanor's  party  to-morrow  night. 


56        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Tell  her  I'll  be  back  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
Important  case." 

"  Judge,"  said  Mrs.  Bayard,  nervously,  "  you  can 
spare  five  minutes.  I  want  to  talk  to  you  about 
this  —  this  note." 

The  Judge  raised  his  eyes  in  surprise  to  Mrs. 
Bayard's  face.  He  took  the  note  from  her  ex- 
tended hand.  His  face  became  grave. 

"  Where  did  you  get  this  ?  —  not  from  Mrs. 
Desmond  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  stammered ;  "  I  found  it  in  an  old 
box  of  letters." 

"You  are  a  good  girl,  Laura,"  he  said.  All  the 
buoyancy  had  left  his  face.  "  You  are  a  good 
girl,  —  you  always  were  ;  though  I  have  thought 
of  late  that  your  way  of  life  was  spoiling  you. 
Ah,  my  dear,"  he  added,  with  a  sigh,  as  he  laid 
the  little  piece  of  paper,  which  he  tenderly 
smoothed  with  his  hand,  within  the  leaves  of  his 
note-book,  "  if  after  the  death  of  one  we  love  we 
could  not  go  back  to  the  best  in  that  dear  one's 
life,  and  forget  the  worst,  what  consolation  could 
be  left  us."  Then  moved,  perhaps,  by  a  look 
in  Mrs.  Bayard's  eyes,  the  Judge  continued : 
"  Clarissa  was  the  best  of  wives  and  mothers.  She 
was  as  good  and  truthful  as  her  daughter,  and  you 
know  and  love  her  daughter.  I  am  glad  this  fell 
into  your  hands  ;  I  am  sure  that  you,  the  dear 
friend  of  our  family,  will  not  ask  for  an  explana- 
tion that  would  be  very  painful." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       57 

Mrs.  Bayard  did  not  speak.  Now  was  her  time 
to  declare  that  she  was  poor ;  that  her  husband 
would  not  pay  her  debts,  that  she  needed  money. 
But  the  simple  dignity  of  the  Judge  moved  her. 
She  murmured  something;  she  heard  the  front 
door  open  ;  there  was  a  little  rustle  in  the  hall, 
and  Eleanor,  flushed  and  hurried,  entered. 

"  O  papa,"  she  said,  "  they  told  me  at  the  office 
that  3rou  had  gone.  And  you  will  miss  my 
Coffee.  Oh !  do  stay,  dear." 

"  I  can't,  Eleanor.  There  —  kiss  me.  The 
buggy  is  waiting.  Good-by." 

He  was  off. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  papa  ?  He 
doesn't  look  like  himself." 

Laura  gave  no  answer.  Eleanor  stood  at  the 
window  for  an  instant,  a  vague  feeling  of  alarm 
possessing  her.  She  caught  sight  of  the  note-book 
he  had  forgotten  to  put  in  his  pocket.  The  buggy 
passed  the  window,  her  father  waving  his  hand 
at  her ;  she  held  up  the  book  to  him,  and  as  she 
did  so  the  faded  note  in  her  mother's  writing 
fluttered  to  the  carpet.  She  had  caught  it  before 
Mrs.  Bayard  could  move  toward  it.  The  buggy 
had  gone.  Eleanor  glanced  at  the  paper. 

"  I  wonder  if  this  book  is  important  to  papa  —  " 
The  words  died  on  her  lips.  She  saw  the  signa- 
ture, "  Clarissa  Redwood,"  and  read  the  words  in 
the  writing  she  loved  to  see. 


58        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Laura  watched  her  eagerly.  Mortification  at 
her  failure  at  the  critical  moment  in  the  rdle  of 
adventuress  had  been  merged  into  curiosity. 
Eleanor  stood  with  her  face  to  the  window.  She 
did  not  speak  until  Mrs.  Bayard  had  broken  the 
silence. 

"  I  fancy  I  had  better  go,  Nora.  I  came  to  see 
Belinda  about  her  church  work." 

"If  you  must  go  —  "  Eleanor  did  not  finish 
the  sentence.  She  turned  toward  Laura,  her  eyes 
full  of  tears.  "  Oh !  I  am  so  unhappy,  Laura." 

Mrs.  Bayard  took  her  hand  tenderly  and  kissed 
it.  "  Tell  me  all." 

"  No,"  Eleanor  answered,  —  "no  —  •  I  have 
nothing  to  tell.  Perhaps  I  had  better  go  to  my 
room  and  rest." 

On  this  hint,  Mrs.  Bayard  went.  She  knew 
that  there  had  gradually  widened  a  gulf  between 
her  and  her  friend.  She  saw  now  that  the  gulf 
could  be  bridged  only  by  a  heart,  and  she  felt  that 
she  was  heartless. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        59 


V. 


A  daffodil  upon  his  breast, 

And  hope  within  his  heart, 
He  felt  the  world  was  at  its  best, 

And  bade  dark  care  depart. 

—  Old  Ballad. 

IN  spite  of  her  anxiety  and  unhappiness, 
Eleanor  contrived  to  neglect  none  of  the  details 
of  her  coming  social  function.  At  her  age  it 
requires  very  immediate  pain  to  make  one  fail  to 
get  any  possible  pleasure  out  of  the  present. 
And  Eleanor  was  of  a  temperament  which  could 
concentrate  itself  on  the  present  very  intensely. 

Belinda  was  too  intent  on  the  task  of  making 
the  lives  of  her  assistants  a  burden,  to  think 
much  about  the  note  she  had  given  Mrs.  Bayard 
in  her  impulsive  wish  to  win  that  young  woman 
over  to  an  interest  in  the  Kindergarten.  Never- 
theless, she  had  a  vague  uneasiness  about  it ;  she 
had  meant  it  as  a  sop  to  Mrs.  Bayard's  evident 
curiosity  about  the  Desmonds  —  nothing  more. 
Belinda  had  no  desire  to  give  her  employer 
trouble;  she  had  acted  on  an  impulse,  which  she 
afterward  regretted.  It  had  not  occurred  to  her 
that  Mrs.  Redwood's  "  nonsense "  could  make 
more  than  a  passing  ripple  of  mischief. 

Eleanor  began  to  be  somewhat  nervous  as  the 
hour  for  the  assembly  drew  near.  In  Redwood 


60        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

chaperons  were  unheard  of.  Young  girls  roved 
everywhere  at  will  ;  and  the  young  girl  who  did 
not  take  the  most  prominent  part  in  all  the 
social  functions  in  which  her  family  was  con- 
cerned was  looked  on  as  a  poor  sort  of  a  creature. 
Eleanor  had  a  natural  delicacy  which  prevented 
her  from  taking  all  the  privileges  which  the 
etiquette  of  Redwood  permitted  her ;  still  she 
thought  it  entirely  proper  that  she  should  do  the 
honors  of  her  father's  house  without  the  help  of 
any  older  woman.  But,  as  she  waited  for  the 
guests,  she  heartily  wished  that  her  father  were 
at  home.  This  would  have  seemed  very  absurd 
to  most  of  the  Redwood  young  people  in 
"society,"  to  whom  fathers  and  mothers  were 
social  encumbrances  when  amusement  was  in 
question.  But  the  Judge  was  Eleanor's  all,  and 
she  loved  him  so  much  that  a  day's  absence 
from  him  was  a  great  trial  to  her.  Besides,  this 
Coffee  had  been  really  put  back  until  the  evening 
in  order  that  it  might  not  be  what  the  Judge 
called  a  "hen  party." 

Eleanor  could  have  conducted  this  without  a 
tremor,  but  the  prospect  of  entertaining  the  men 
bothered  her.  Would  they  want  to  smoke  in  the 
parlor  ?  Should  she  hand  them  cigars  ?  Would 
they  stand  in  the  doorways  and  talk  among 
themselves?  Would  they  dance,  if  it  were  pro- 
posed? Would  Deacon  Krembs  and  the  other 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        61 

church  members  leave  the  house  if  a  dance  were 
begun  ?  She  was  sure  of  the  Episcopalians  ;  their 
minister  did  not  object  to  taking  a  turn  himself ; 
but  she  was  afraid  that  the  elder  Methodists  and 
Baptists  might  not  like  it ;  she  was  quite  sure 
the  younger  ones  would.  But  if  she  did  not  have 
a  dance,  what  could  she  do  with  them  all  ?  Danc- 
ing was  the  only  substitute  for  conversation  she 
could  think  of.  Cards  were,  of  course,  impossible. 

"  Why  can't  you  have  kissing  games  ?  Church 
members  are  used  to  them.  Mr.  Stokes  mightn't 
like  dancing  —  I  do  think  it's  improper  myself ; 
but  I  am  sure  Copenhagen  needn't  offend  the 
most  God-fearin',"  Belinda  said,  as  she  pulled 
Eleanor  about  in  an  ecstasy  of  fussiness,  by  way 
of  assisting  at  her  toilet. 

"  They're  vulgar,"  said  Eleanor. 

Belinda  sniffed.  "  But  they're  not  sinful,  like 
dancin',"  she  said.  "  Sin  ain't  nothin'  to  some 
people,  providing  they  are  in  the  fashion.  And  I 
hear  there  is  a  Romanist  coming.  A  fine  time 
he'll  have,  laughing  over  the  whole  thing  with 
his  priests  in  the  confession  boxes.  He'll  think 
that  we're  as  bad  as  he  is.  I  declare  if  I  was 
quite  sure  that  the  jelly  in  my  feather-cake  was 
all  right,  I'd  leave  the  house  this  minute." 

"  Oh !  do  be  quiet,  Belinda,"  Eleanor  said, 
pinning  a  little  pearl  brooch  in  the  high  neck  of 
her  white  silk  gown.  "  Oh  !  what  shall  I  do  with 


62        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

them  all  ?  If  there  were  only  somebody  to  call 
the  figures." 

The  gas  was  lit  all  over  the  house.  Eleanor 
grew  very  nervous  between  anxiety  and  timidity. 
And  then  the  thought  that  Patrick  Desmond 
was  to  be  among  her  guests  was  a  constant  under- 
current to  her  other  thoughts.  It  was  a  deep  and 
ominous  bass  below  the  light  treble  of  discordant 
anxieties. 

The  musicians  had  come ;  they  were  stationed 
at  the  top  of  the  staircase.  Eleanor's  heart  almost 
stopped  beating  as  she  drew  on  her  gloves.  In 
a  moment  more  she  would  have  to  decide  every- 
thing that  was  not  yet  decided.  Oh  !  why  did  not 
Laura  Bayard  come  ?  She  would  know  all  about 
the  cigars.  Eleanor  went  downstairs,  and  the 
frourfrou  of  the  soft  silk  of  her  gown  gave  her 
courage.  After  all,  there  was  pleasure  in  being 
well  dressed.  She  stood  before  the  tall  mirror  in 
the  back  parlor,  and  looked  at  the  reflected  rooms 
with  satisfaction.  Smilax  was  wreathed  every- 
where with  carnations,  and  there  were  great  vases 
of  red  tulips.  The  dining-room  and  sitting-room 
on  the  other  side  of  the  hall,  had  been  arranged 
for  the  possible  dance.  Eleanor  examined  them : 
they  were  satisfactory. 

Suddenly  a  pang  shot  through  her  heart.  These 
were  not  hers,  but  Patrick  Desmond's ;  and  she 
was  not  in  her  own  home  at  all,  but  in  his.  The 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        63 

thought  was  too  hideous  ;  she  felt  that  she  could 
almost  laugh  at  it.  There  must  be  some  explana- 
tion of  her  mother's  note,  —  some  explanation  of 
the  mysterious  words  her  mother  had  once  spoken 
to  her.  How  well  she  remembered  those  words  — 
"  You  are  enjoying  the  birthright  of  another. 
Nothing  here  is  really  yours."  These  words  had 
saddened  her  life  for  the  last  few  years.  And  yet, 
with  the  singular  reticence  that  keeps  words  that 
should  be  spoken  back  from  the  lips  of  those  near- 
est to  each  other,  she  had  never  dared  to  ask  her 
mother  the  meaning  of  them.  And  her  mother 
had  added :  "Young  Desmond  should  be  in  your 
place."  This  all  came  back  to  her  now  ;  but  she 
cast  it  away.  Well,  the  hour  was  hers  ;  she  would 
enjoy  it.  The  smilax  and  flowers,  the  music,  the 
new  gown,  —  they  at  least  were  hers  for  a  time. 
She  would  be  Eleanor  Redwood  for  one  night  at 
least,  even  if  to-morrow  she  were  cast  out  a  beggar. 
Patrick  Desmond  was  much  more  agitated  in 
mind  than  he  was  willing  to  admit.  His  mother 
irritated  him  by  frankly  announcing  that  she  con- 
sidered that  Miss  Redwood's  Coffee  was  a  veritable 
epoch  in  his  life.  Desmond  resented  it  —  perhaps 
because  he  himself,  in  his  secret  heart,  regarded  it 
as  something  of  an  epoch.  Mrs.  Desmond,  not 
knowing  that  the  Judge  scarcely  recollected  that 
she  still  lived  in  Redwood,  was  loud  in  praises  of 
the  fact  that  he  remembered  her  birthday  every 


64        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

year.  Last  year  he  had  sent  her  the  hyacinths,  the 
year  before  a  beautiful  Maltese  cat,  —  Mrs.  Des- 
mond went  on,  not  knowing  that  these  things  had 
been  done  by  Eleanor,  because  her  father  had 
once  told  her  to  remember  Mrs.  Desmond  on  a 
certain  day  in  each  year,  and  then  forgotten  all 
about  it  himself. 

Patrick  hated  all  this;  he  was  full  of  resent- 
ment against  the  Redwoods ;  and,  to  escape  his 
mother's  talk,  he  went  up  to  his  room.  He  had 
come  home  early ;  he  had  some  hours  before  him, 
and  various  questions  began  to  trouble  him.  He 
was  too  proud  to  ask  Benson  Eastwood  about  the 
etiquette  of  Redwood  society  ;  and  now,  alone  in 
his  room,  with  the  great  function  appallingly  near 
him,  he  wished  he  had  secured  a  few  points.  Among 
some  ancient  books  in  the  attic  was  the  "  Gentle- 
man's Own  Book  of  Deportment,"  printed  at 
London  in  1815.  Into  this  stained  and  dog-eared 
little  volume  Patrick  plunged.  The  compendium 
was  founded  on  Lord  Chesterfield's  letters,  with 
notes  doubtless  by  Beau  Brummel.  "  A  gentle- 
man," Patrick  was  informed,  "  always  takes  an  ice 
at  twelve  o'clock,  particularly  in  Paris,  where  the 
ices  are  particularly  good."  After  this  he  turned 
the  leaves  disconsolately,  until  he  learned  that 
"  gentlemen  in  England  never  plunge  their  knives 
into  their  mouths.  One  should  remember  the  re- 
mark of  the  lady  of  quality  on  Dr.  Johnson's  (the 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICE:  DESMOND.        65 

great  lexicographer)  putting  a  knife  between  his 
lips.  '  I  thought,'  she  exclaimed,  '  that  the  wretch 
would  cut  his  head  in  two ! '  He  learned  also 
that  buff  waistcoats  were  no  longer  the  mode  for 
evening  wear  in  London.  Benson  Eastwood,  as  a 
monitor  of  fashion,  was  entirely  out  of  the  ques- 
tion. Benson  was  a  good  fellow;  but  he  had  a 
habit  of  laughing,  and  he  might  possibly  get  some 
amusement  from  the  bewilderment  of  a  novice 
about  to  enter  society. 

He  thought  of  Mr.  Stokes,  with  whom  he  was 
slightly  acquainted ;  but,  on  consideration,  he  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  Mr.  Stokes,  who  wore  a 
straw  hat  and  a  linen  dust-coat  for  nine  months  of 
the  year,  was  hardly  the  person  to  modernize  Beau 
Brummel's  maxims.  There  was  Jack  Conlon.  Jack 
was  an  ecclesiastical  student,  who  had  come  back 
from  the  seminary  in  New  York  to  remain  with 
his  father,  who  was  slowly  dying  of  consumption. 
And  there  was  old  Dr.  Talbot.  But  Dr.  Talbot 
lived  too  far  away.  Desmond  resolved  to  consult 
Jack.  He  took  his  hat,  and  calling  out  to  his 
mother  that  he  would  be  back  in  five  minutes, 
went  down  to  the  river.  Almost  on  the  very 
brink,  in  a  green  oasis  not  yet  invaded  by  fac- 
tories, the  Conlons  lived. 

Desmond  found  Jack  in  the  garden,  smoking 
a  long  pipe.  He  had  a  clerical  look  already.  He 
was  tall,  rather  lank,  with  close-cut  hair,  a  long 


66        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

black  coat.  His  face,  well  shaven,  was  good- 
humored  and  kindly ;  yet  with  a  slight  twinkle  in 
the  eyes  that  betrayed  a  sense  of  humor. 

"  Halloo,  Pat !  "  he  said.     "  Smoke  ?  " 

"  No  time,"  Desmond  answered.  "  I  wish  I 
had,"  he  added,  with  a  groan.  "  I've  got  to  go 
through  a  terrible  ordeal  to-night,  and  I  want  you 
to  give  me  a  point  or  two  about  it." 

"What  ordeal?"  asked  Jack  Conloii.  "And 
what  points?" 

"  Oh  !  I  am  going  into  society  ;  Judge  Redwood 
is  having  a  party,  and  he  has  asked  me." 

"And  you  don't  show  a  proper  degree  of  ela- 
tion," said  Jack,  smiling  and  drawing  at  his  pipe. 
"  Just  look  at  the  opaline  in  that  sunset.  Do  you 
know,  I  think  I'd  take  to  poetry,  if  I  were  sure 
the  authorities  at  the  seminary  wouldn't  find  it 
out.  They  can't  endure  poetry  in  a  priest,  unless 
he  disguises  it  as  prose.  See  how  that  opaline 
color  changes  to  pale  blue,  — 

1  The  clouds  that  gather  round  the  setting  sun 
Do  take  a  sober  coloring  from  an  eye  — '  " 

"  O  Jack,  stop !  What  kind  of  clothes  ought  I 
to  wear?" 

"  All  you  have,"  said  Jack,  pushing  some  new 
tobacco  into  his  pipe  ;  "  that's  the  rule  in  Red- 
wood. A  red  flannel  shirt  will  not  do.  You 
might  let  a  suspicion  of  one  show  below  your  coat 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        67 

sleeves,  just  to  let  people  know  you  are  rich 
enough  to  have  such  a  garment;  but  too  much 
display  is  considered  vulgar." 

Desmond  made  a  gesture  of  impatience.  "  I 
haven't  much  time." 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  come  to  me,  then." 

"  You've  been  in  New  York,  and  you  ought  to 
know  about  these  things  better  than  I  do." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Jack,  "  we  always  dressed 
for  dinner  at  the  seminary,  and  wore  dressing- 
gowns  all  the  morning.  But  really,  Pat,"  he  said, 
changing  his  tone,  "  I  don't  know  what  you  ought 
to  wear.  It  wouldn't  do  to  lounge  into  Judge 
Redwood's  in  a  light-colored  coat.  I  know  that, 
though  some  of  these  barbarians  will  probably  do 
it.  I  honestly  think,"  he  said,  with  a  sudden 
inspiration,  "you  ought  to  get  yourself  up  as  if 
you  were  going  to  a  funeral." 

Desmond  was  silent.  The  wisdom  of  this  ad- 
vice gradually  became  apparent  to  him. 

"  Do  you  know  whether  they  dance  at  these 
things  or  not  ?  And  shall  I  have  to  wear  gloves  ? 
And  —  I  wish  I  could  back  out." 

"  Don't  back  out,"  said  Jack,  gravely.  "Clothe 
yourself  in  your  right  mind,  and  be  as  nice  as  you 
can.  Doubtless  these  people  mean  to  be  kind; 
and  as  you  are  probably  the  first  specimen  of  the 
Irish-American  —  if  there  be  any  such  creature  — 
who  has  penetrated  into  the  sanctity  of  Redwood 


68        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

society,  go  forth  and  show  your  blood.  Don't 
worry  about  your  clothes.  You  may  rest  assured 
that  half  Redwood,  which  is  just  beginning  to 
be  civilized,  will  be  as  uneasy  as  you  are." 

"  Where  did  you  learn  all  this  ?  "  asked  Patrick, 
somewhat  comforted. 

"  From  books  on  Moral  Philosophy,"  laughed 
his  companion. 

In  the  meantime  the  postman,  who  had  two 
"  deliveries "  in  Redwood,  had  left  a  letter  for 
Mrs.  Desmond.  It  was  postmarked  "  New  York." 
It  was  enclosed  in  a  large  Nile-green  envelope, 
heavily  scented  with  heliotrope,  and  ornamented 
with  a  monogram  in  red  and  gold.  It  was  in 
answer  to  one  written  the  week  before  by  Mrs. 
Desmond.  The  mother  had  seen  for  some  time 
that  her  son  needed  a  change ;  every  day  she 
feared  that  he  would  announce  an  intention  of 
leaving  Redwood.  She  had  a  friend  in  New  York, 
her  sister's  own  daughter,  who  had  made  a  great 
match,  and  to  her  Mrs.  Desmond  had  applied. 
And  indeed  this  niece  of  hers  had  every  reason 
to  be  grateful ;  for  never  had  Mrs.  Desmond  re- 
fused an  application  for  help  from  this  sister  when 
her  children  were  small  and  their  needs  many. 
The  Nile-green  envelope  and  the  gorgeous  mon- 
ogram, which  symbolized  "N.  G.,"  marvellously 
entwisted,  lay  'beside  Desmond's  plate  when  he 
"eturned  from  his  visit  to  Jack  Conlon.  There 


TEX  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        69 

was  a  look  of  mild  triumph  in  Mrs.  Desmond's 
eyes  as  she  called  his  attention  to  it.  If  Patrick 
must  leave  her,  it  would  be  well  that  he  should 
go  to  "  his  own."  The  letter  ran  as  follows  : 

THE  GRAND  WINDSOR,  HARLEM, 

April  6, 18 — 

DEAR  AUNT  :  —  I  hasten  to  answer  your  epistle  of  the 
30th,  hoping  to  find  you  in  good  health.  My  husband, 
the  Hon.  Miles  Galligan,  will  soon  need  a  secretary,  and 
when  I  received  your  letter  I  at  once  recommended 
Patrick.  As  we  move  in  the  best  society,  we  shall  ex- 
pect him  to  be  up  to  the  mark  in  every  way.  I  shall 
leave  New  York  with  my  nurse  and  child,  on  June  1, 
for  a  tour  in  the  country,  ending  at  Saratoga,  where 
many  of  my  husband's  friends  meet  every  summer.  If 
Patrick  could  be  here  by  the  first  of  May,  it  would  suit 
us  very  well.  The  salary  will  depend  very  much  on  a 
bill  which  my  husband  is  trying  to  have  passed.  This 
bill  will  give  each  overworked  member  an  extra  clerk. 
And  if  you  could  see  how  they  work  at  their  commit- 
tees,—  sometimes  up  all  night.  Little  Miley  is  a  fine 
boy,  and  I  am  sure  he  will  take  to  his  cousin,  though 
he  is  only  two  years  old.  The  Longworthys  —  stuck-up 
creatures,  I  always  hated  that  Esther  !  —  are  in  Europe. 
I  wrote  to  you  about  them  once  ;  at  any  rate  you  have 
seen  their  names  in  the  New  York  papers.  If  Patrick 
drinks,  you  needn't  send  him. 

Yours  to  command, 

NELLIE  GALLIGAN. 

Desmond  laughed  scornfully.     "  What  does  she 
take  me  for  ?     '  If  Patrick  drinks  — '  " 


70         THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  It  may  be  a  great  chance,"  said  his  mother, 
nervously.  "And  Nellie's  made  a  great  match 
entirely.  She  says  her  husband  is  one  of  the 
greatest  statesmen  of  the  day." 

"  And  so  you  want  me  to  go  away,  mother  ?  " 
he  said,  with  a  touch  of  tenderness  in  his  voice. 

"  God  knows  I  don't,  dear,"  she  answered, 
tremulously  ;  "  but  if  you  must  go,  I  hope  you'll 
go  among  your  own  flesh  and  blood.  I  haven't 
seen  my  sister  for  many  years  —  not  since  she 
made  a  trip  down  here  with  little  Nellie.  We 
separated  at  Castle  Garden;  she  stayed  in  New 
York  and  married ;  and  I  came  here,  a  young 
girl,  with  a  family  that  was  going  farther  West." 

"  I  don't  like  this  letter,"  said  Patrick,  sniffing 
at  the  musk-laden  envelope.  "  The  woman  writes 
like  an  upstart." 

"  Oh,  no  —  don't  be  too  severe  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Desmond,  anxious  to  defend  "  her  own."  "  She 
has  a  good  heart  and  she  means  to  be  kind." 

Patrick  made  no  answer ;  it  was  time  to  pre- 
pare for  the  "  epoch."  He  took  a  candle  and 
went  upstairs.  His  mother  fluttered  about  the 
foot  of  the  staircase,  anxious  to  see  the  young 
Apollo  reappear.  She  had  provided  a  pair  of 
white  kid  gloves,  and  a  nosegay  for  his  button- 
hole. At  last  he  came,  his  rather  long  hair  very 
much  brushed,  and  the  ends  of  his  mustache 
curled  upward.  His  frock-coat  was  open  in  front, 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

revealing  a  white  satin  tie,  a  black  waistcoat,  and 
black  broadcloth  trousers.  The  white  gloves  made 
his  hands  appear  large,  and  he  felt  uncomfortable. 
Three  large  hothouse  daffodils  and  a  spray  of 
fern  adorned  the  left  lapel  of  his  coat.  He  car- 
ried in  his  hand  a  Derby  hat,  and  he  said  to  his 
mother : 

"  Am  I  all  right  ?  " 

The  high  collar  almost  cut  his  chin  in  two,  the 
gloves  were  obnoxiously  tight,  and  the  bunch  of 
daffodils  made  him  feel  foolish,  —  but  he  forgot 
all  these  things  as  he  saw  the  tears  in  his  mother's 
eyes. 

"  Ah,  dear,"  she  said  in  her  soft  voice,  "  you're 
the  image  of  your  father  at  your  age." 

He  kissed  her,  and  passed  out ;  she  looked 
after  him,  standing  at  the  door.  It  was  a  happy 
moment  in  Mrs.  Desmond's  life. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 


VI. 


.  .  .  They  freeze,  they  petrify  me.  They  may  talk  of  a 
burning  mountain,  or  some  such  bagatelle.  But  to  me  a  mod- 
est woman  dressed  out  in  all  her  finery  is  the  most  tremendous 
object  in  the  whole  creation.  —  Marlow,  in  "  She  Stoops  to  Con- 
quer" 

DESMOND  paused  a  moment  before  entering 
Judge  Redwood's  house.  It  was  a  large,  rambling 
structure  of  wood,  built  after  no  particular  plan. 
It  was  so  thoroughly  lighted  within  that  every 
window  stood  out  of  the  darkness  with  startling 
distinctness.  A  row  of  Chinese  lanterns  hung 
from  the  roof  of  the  porch.  The  house  was  set 
back  somewhat  from  the  street ;  and  on  the  lawn, 
among  the  tulip  beds,  white  lanterns  made  an  odd 
effect,  giving  an  air  of  unreality  to  the  common- 
place surroundings.  A  buggy  drove  up  to  the 
garden  gate,  and  then  a  cab.  Desmond  saw  a 
flutter  of  white  dresses,  and  then  one  of  the  dark 
shadows  that  accompanied  the  party  in  the  cab 
came  toward  him. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Desmond  ?  "  said  the  voice 
of  the  shadow.  "  I  was  afraid  I  should  miss  you. 
Come  in." 

It  was  Benson  Eastwood.  Desmond  followed 
him  up  the  pathway  between  the  two  lines  of 
nodding  tulips.  The  hall  reached,  Benson  East- 
wood presented  him  to  one  of  the  hooded  and 
cloaked  ladies  in  white. 


THE  SUCCESS  Of1  PATRICK  DESMOND.        73 

"  Mr.  Desmond,  my  sister  Rena." 

Desmond  bowed.  The  young  lady  murmured 
something,  and  disappeared  upstairs.  Desmond 
caught  sight  of  moving  colors  in  the  parlor  and 
the  wreaths  of  smilax.  Belinda,  almost  covered 
by  a  long  white  apron,  led  the  way  to  the  Judge's 
study,  at  the  end  of  the  hall.  There  was  a  great 
assemblage  of  hats  and  coats.  A  dressing-case 
had  been  moved  into  this  apartment,  on  which 
was  placed  a  large  ivory-backed  brush  and  a  silver 
comb.  These  articles  reposed  on  a  large  red 
plush  cushion.  Patrick  felt  a  thrill  of  disgust 
when  Benson  Eastwood  passed  these  sacred  im- 
plements over  his  head.  It  was  wrong  to  use 
things  evidently  intended  for  show.  Benson  was 
short,  stout,  blond,  with  florid  cheeks,  and  a 
Prince  Albert  coat  that  had  evidently  been  made 

m 

for  him  before  he  had  come  to  weigh  over  one 
hundred  and  ninety.  His  necktie  was  a  different 
red  from  his  cheeks,  but  still  very  red.  A  red 
coral  pin  in  the  necktie  further  emphasized  the 
redness  of  his  complexion.  He  turned  to  exam- 
ine Patrick  critically. 

"  You'll  do,"  he  said,  adjusting  a  red  rose  in 
the  button  of  his  coat.  "  But  you  must  take  off 
those  gloves ;  nobody  wears  gloves  in  Redwood." 

Patrick  gladly  complied  with  this  advice,  sigh- 
ing with  relief  in  the  thought  that  he  was  at  last 
in  the  hands  of  somebody  that  "  knew."  Benson 


74         THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

took  another  glance  at  him ;  but  he  made  no  fur- 
ther suggestions,  for  several  friends  came  into  the 
room.  Nearly  all  these  gentlemen  wore  black 
coats  of  various  shapes  ;  but  they  seemed  to  have 
devoted  immense  thought  to  their  neckties,  which 
were  all  of  the  flamboyant  order ;  and  in  the 
centre  of  each  there  was  a  diamond,  large  or 
small,  —  mostly  large. 

When  Benson  and  his  friends  had  exchanged 
greetings  and  talked  a  little  "  shop,"  Patrick  was 
led  upstairs,  to  be  given  in  charge  of  the  fair 
Rena. 

"  You'll  look  after  my  sister,  you  know,"  the 
brother  said,  with  an  engaging  wink.  "  I've  got 
to  look  after  some  other  fellow's." 

Desmond  was  expected  to  laugh  at  this,  but  he 
was  too  nervous  to  speak.  He  found  himself  in 
the  centre  of  a  group  of  ladies,  attired  in  pink 
and  blue  and  black,  who  stood  chatting  in  the 
corridor;  he-felt  as  if  he  had  dropped  into  a  kalei- 
doscope. He  began  to  understand  Goldsmith's 
hero's  opinion,  that  the  most  impressive  and  op- 
pressive thing  on  earth  was  a  gentlewoman  attired 
in  her  best. 

After  a  while  Rena  Eastwood,  florid  and  blond 
like  her  brother,  but  not  so  stout,  and  with  a 
knowledge  of  the  application  of  grammatical  rules 
which  he  did  not  possess,  fluttered  out  of  the  room 
reserved  for  the  ladies.  She  was  a  vision  of  white 
lace  and  ribbons. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        75 

"Mr.  Desmond,  I  believe?"  she  said,  putting 
a  white-gloved  hand  softly  on  Patrick's  arm. 
"  Didn't  you  say  that  I  was  to  take  Mr.  Desmond 
down,  Benson  ?  " 

"  That's  the  ticket,"  cried  Benson,  as  a  tall 
girl  in  yellow  and  black  moved  toward  him. 

Miss  Eastwood's  voice  was  dovelike  ;  she  spoke 
with  a  most  fascinating  drawl.  She  never  said 
"  Yes  "  ;  she  always  said  "  Ya-as,"  with  the  most 
dulcet  accent  on  the  last  syllable.  And  Desmond 
was  not  happy.  He  began  to  ask  himself  how  he 
should  get  rid  of  her  when  he  wanted  to  go. 
They  descended  the  stairs  slowly,  while  the 
orchestra  played  "  The  Sweet  By  and  By,"  — 
Belinda  having  ordered  this  as  a  kind  of  atone- 
ment for  the  dance  music  which  she  was  told  was 
to  follow. 

"  Isn't  it  funny  how  fond  short  men  are  of  tall 
girls  ? "  Rena  warbled,  as  Patrick  put  his  soul 
into  trying  to  avoid  stepping  on  a  long  pink  train 
in  front  of  him.  "  Isn't  it  funny  ?  " 

Patrick  did  not  know;  and,  not  being  accus- 
tomed to  the  small  dishonesties  of  society,  he 
could  not  give  an  opinion  without  having  any. 

"  Now,  our  Beri  is  positively  infatuated  with 
that  Carrie  Redfield.  Isnt  she  awful?" 

Patrick  blushed  ;  how  could  he  tell  ? 

"  Oh,  I  do  hope  they  have  olives  to-night  1  I 
love  olives  ! " 


76        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Patrick  could  not  see  his  way  clear  either  to 
the  hating  of  Miss  Redfield  or  the  loving  of 
olives.  He  wished  the  stairs  were  not  so  long, 
and  that  the  pink  train  would  move  faster.  Miss 
Eastwood  prattled  away,  quite  conscious  of  her 
pretty  gown,  and  anxious  that  everybody  should 
see  her  leading  captive  the  handsomest  man  in 
the  room. 

At  last  Desmond  and  she  stepped  in  front  of 
the  group  in  which  their  hostess  stood.  Eleanor 
had  stationed  herself  in  front  of  the  great  mirror, 
the  frame  of  which  was  entirely  covered  with 
smilax.  Beside  her  was  Laura  Bayard,  attired  in 
a  bewildering  arrangement  of  green  and  rose- 
color  ;  and  not  far  off  was  Mr.  Bayard,  a  pale, 
black-whiskered  man,  with  a  weak  chin  and  a 
narrow  forehead. 

Eleanor  towered  above  everybody  about  her,  — 
but  "towered"  is  a  bad  word;  for  a  young  birch 
or  pine  hardly  towers,  and  she  had  all  the  grace 
of  a  young  tree.  Desmond's  native  taste  chose 
her  out  of  all  present  as  the  most  distinguished 
woman.  Her  simple  white  gown  and  her  pearl 
pin,  in  which  had  been  caught  a  spray  of  arbutus, 
made  all  the  reds  and  blues  and  diamonds  and 
bunches  of  roses  in  the  room  seem  vulgar.  Miss 
Eastwood  presented  Desmond  to  her  and  the 
Bayards.  She  held  out  her  hand  and  looked  at 
him  with  a  strange  interest  in  her  eyes.  Mrs. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        77 

Bayard  was  effusive,  —  she  was  so  happy,  and 
used  the  dovelike  accent  which  was  so  great  a 
part  of  Miss  Eastwood's  social  charm.  Desmond 
shook  hands  with  her  husband  very  coolly.  He 
had  heard  of  that  gentleman. 

Desmond  forgot  his  defiance  as  he  looked  at 
Eleanor.  She  was  a  very  stately  creature  and  he 
acknowledged  to  himself  that  it  would  be  an 
honor  to  pick  up  her  glove,  or  to  throw  a  cloak 
in  the  mud  before  her,  after  the  fashion  of  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh.  Standing  before  her,  Desmond 
felt  a  sense  of  inferiority. 

"  I  am  sorry  papa  is  not  here  to  tell  you  how 
glad  he  —  happy  to  see  you,  Mr.  Eastwood.  How 
sweet  of  you  to  come,  Miss  Redfield !  " 

A  hot  flush  came  to  his  cheek  as  he  felt  that  he 
had  been  pushed  aside.  He  looked  at  Miss  East- 
wood to  see  how  she  took  it ;  but  the  young  girl 
seemed  relieved. 

"  I  do  hate  to  stand  that  way  thinking  of  things 
to  say,"  she  said.  "  If  that  is  a  bowl  of  lemonade 
over  there,  do  take  me  to  it.  Some  people  have 
claret  punch  at  parties,  but  I  think  it  is  wicked. 
Do  you  think  that  hard  cider  is  wicked?  Some 
people  do." 

He  almost  wished  he  could  drown  the  sweet 
young  creature  in  the  bowl  of  lemonade ;  he  wanted 
to  hide  himself  in  a  corner  where  he  could  watch 
Eleanor  Redwood,  and  get  away  as  soon  as  pos- 


78         THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK   DESMOND. 

sible.  So  this  was  amusement,  —  this  walking 
about  and  trying  to  find  something  to  say.  He 
wished  he  were  back  at  home  reading  "  The 
Parnell  Movement "  to  his  dear  old  mother. 
While  Miss  Eastwood  drank  a  glass  of  iced 
lemonade  and  chatted  to  two  or  three  men  near 
her,  Patrick  felt,  with  a  pang,  that  he  had  no 
right  where  he  was.  He  was  in  his  real  place 
in  the  little  house  over  the  river,  with  the  rag 
carpet  and  the  cook  stove,  and  all  the  other 
homely  surroundings.  His  mother  could  have 
no  place  here,  how  could  he  ?  The  flowers,  the 
gay  frocks,  the  light,  the  music,  made  a  new 
world  for  him,  in  which  he  had  no  right.  A  little 
later  he  lost  this  mood,  which  was  at  once  one  of 
exaltation  and  abasement.  But  to-night  Eleanor 
was  a  princess  of  a  finer  mould  than  he,  of  another 
race,  as  it  were.  "  Let  it  be  so,"  he  said  bitterly  ; 
"  let  it  be  so."  He  would  go  to  New  York,  away 
from  all  this  brilliance,  and  remain  with  his  own 
people. 

The  clerk  at  the  Howard  House,  who  had  the 
largest  diamond  pin  in  the  room,  passed  him  with 
a  condescending  nod.  Dr.  Talbot  smiled  be- 
nignantly,  and  Mrs.  Talbot  waved  her  black 
gloves  —  which  she  never  wore,  —  and  asked  him 
how  his  mother's  throat  was.  The  keeper  of  the 
livery  stable  told  Miss  Eastwood  just  to  give  him 
"  the  wink"  when  she  wanted  to  go  home;  he'd 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        79 

change  his  coat  and  drive  her  out  in  a  jiffy.  "  And 
don't  forget,  Rena,"  he  added,  "  to  keep  a  dance 
for  me." 

Several  people  came  to  speak  to  Patrick,  but 
there  was  a  general  air  of  stiffness.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Bayard,  who  were  usually  seen  apart,  clung  to- 
gether until  some  of  the  men,  encouraged  by 
Benson  Eastwood,  who  had  a  way  of  making 
himself  at  home,  went  into  the  Judge's  study  to 
smoke.  Patrick  would  have  liked  to  follow  them, 
but  Miss  Eastwood  held  to  him  with  a  firm  grasp. 
He  felt  tongue-tied.  It  seemed  to  him  that  her 
talk  was  too  absurd  to  take  literally,  and  yet 
impossible  to  be  considered  metaphorically  un- 
less she  were  a  chattering  idiot.  Inexperienced 
as  he  was,  he  did  not  allow  for  the  poor  girl's 
society  manner.  In  ordinary  life  Miss  Eastwood 
was  sensible  enough. 

After  a  time  that  young  woman  grew  tired  of 
so  unresponsive  a  partner  and  she  excused  herself 
to  take  the  arm  of  another  amiable  chatterer, 
who  had  stood  near  her  elbow  for  ten  minutes, 
bent  on  making  Desmond  feel  that  he  was  very 
much  "out"  of  social  "swim,"  as  he  did  not 
understand  any  of  the  allusions  made. 

"  Good-looking  fellow,"  the  second  chatterer 
said,  as  he  passed  Desmond. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  but  so  stupid,"  answered  Miss  East- 
wood. "  And  I  never  could  forgive  his  horrid 
name  —  '  Patrick.'  It's  just  awfully  vulgar." 


80        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK   DESMOND. 

Desmond  felt  as  if  a  flame  had  passed  by  him. 

"  I  will  make  you  respect  it,"  he  said,  half-aloud, 
with  involuntary  anger.  Turning,  the  anger  still 
in  his  eyes,  he  saw  Eleanor  Redwood  near  him. 
He  saw  at  once  that  she  had  heard  the  speech  and 
his  sotto-voce  answer.  There  was  sympathy  in  her 
eyes  —  not  sympathy  for  him,  he  had  sense  enough 
to  see  that;  but  the  only  sympathy  —  sympathy 
with  him. 

"  Do  you  find  it  veiy  dull,  Mr.  Desmond  ?  "  she 
said.  "  I  couldn't  come  to  talk  to  you  before, 
because  a  hostess  has  duties ;  and  as  I  am  not  cer- 
tain what  they  are,  I've  been  obliged  to  be  very 
careful.  But  there  will  be  a  dance  after  a  while. 
Ben  Eastwood  has  agreed  to  call  the  figures.  It 
will  come  soon,  too,  for  the  Methodist  minister, 
dear  Mr.  Jamison,  has  just  gone,  and  his  people 
don't  mind  dancing  when  he  is  out  of  the  way." 

Eleanor  spoke  clearly  and  directly,  without  a 
particle  of  affectation. 

"  Why,  they  have  begun  already,"  she  added, 
as  the  fiddlers  struck  up  the  Lanciers.  "  As  the 
hostess,  I  suppose  I  may  ask  you  to  dance  ?  " 

Patrick  felt  the  charm  of  her  manner  and  the 
kindliness  of  her  intention.  Like  most  proud 
people,  he  was  sensitive ;  and,  in  this  instance, 
the  sensitiveness  corrected  the  pride.  Generally 
it  sets  pride  afire. 

"  But  I  don't  dance,"  he  said,  with  a  smile. 
"  This  is  my  first  party." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        81 

"  And  you  haven't  enjoyed  it." 

"  I  am  beginning  to  enjoy  it,"  he  answered, 
smiling  again ;  and  then,  remembering  that  this 
was  rather  an  indifferent  compliment  to  Miss 
Eastwood,  he  stammered  out :  "  That  is,  I  enjoy 
it  just  as  much  as  anybody  can  enjoy,  —  that  is  —  " 

"  It  is  a  warm  night,"  said  Eleanor,  apparently 
not  attending  to  what  he  said.  "  I  am  sure  you 
know  many  people  here.  I  should  like  to  have 
smaller  assemblies,  but  one  must  pay  off  one's 
indebtedness.  I  have  positively  everybody  here. 
And  in  Redwood  one  must  ask  the  town.  If  one 
tried  to  draw  a  line  one  would  soon  be  left  alone." 

Patrick,  recalling  his  experience  with  Miss 
Eastwood,  thought  that  this  might  be  a  good 
thing  to  do ;  he,  however,  enjoyed  the  flattery  of 
being  placed  by  implication  among  those  who 
could  draw  the  line. 

"  Oh  !  I  almost  forgot  to  speak  about"  the  Minuet 
of  the  Nations.  The  night  has  been  fixed.  It 
will  be  the  5th  of  May.  Mr.  Eastwood  spoke 
about  it,  I  think." 

"  Yes,  but  you  know  I  can't  dance  ;  and,  be- 
sides, I  shall  have  to  leave  Redwood  about  the  1st. 
I  am  going  to  New  York." 

The  prospect  of  the  Minuet  of  the  Nations 
decided  him ;  he  would  be  the  Hon.  Miles  Galli- 
gau's  secretary. 

"  And  must  you  really  go  ?  I  am  afraid  it  will 
spoil  our  plans." 


82         THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  he  said ;  and  for  the  moment  lie 
was  sorry.  A  little  persuasion  and  he  would  have 
thrown  over  the  "  Honorable  Miles."  Eleanor 
was  not  at  all  insolent  and  arrogant,  and  how 
could  he  take  on  the  haughty  tone  he  had  been 
assuming  all  day  in  his  thoughts  ?  Desmond  had 
a  clear-cut,  honest  look,  such  as  Perdita  probably 
noticed  in  Prince  Florizel.  Eleanor  scrutinized 
him  with  one  of  those  quick  glances  in  which 
women  are  adept,  while  he  turned  his  profile 
toward  her,  as  he  made  room  for  some  guests  to 
pass.  What  did  he  know  of  the  mystery  ?  Or  did 
he  know  it  at  all?  He  had  not  the  air  of  pro- 
prietorship he  might  have  assumed  under  the 
circumstances. 

"  And  so  this  is  your  first  party  —  or  Coffee,  as 
we  have  come  to  call  these  assemblies  in  Red- 
wood? It's  a  very  absurd  name,  I  think ;  though 
you  shall  really  have  some  coffee  as  soon  as  the 
Lanciers  is  over.  Do  you  think  you  will  ever  go 
to  another?" 

"  If  you  ask  me,"  Patrick  answered,  recovering 
his  spirits. 

"But  you  will  be  in  New  York.  Tell  me,  how 
does  my  party  impress  you  ?  " 

"  Everybody  has  an  air  of  being  very  rich,  veiy 
contented  and  —  very  stiff." 

"  The  last  must  be  my  fault ;  I  am  a  poor 
hostess.  But  if  you  think  they  are  content,  I  am 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        83 

somewhat  relieved.  I  fancy  they  are  not  all  very 
rich ;  but,  on  the  whole,  Redwood  is  a  very  pros- 
perous place." 

"  I  did  not  think  so,  Miss  Redwood,"  Patrick 
said,  "  until  I  read  a  new  book  by  John  Long- 
worthy,  on  '  Poverty  and  Sin.'  Of  course  I  know 
my  own  side  of  the  river  best,  and  some  of  us  are 
very  poor  there ;  but  no  one  is  so  wretched  as 
thousands  are  in  New  York  or  London." 

"  So  you  have  read  Long-worthy's  '  Poverty  and 
Sin '  ?  "  said  Eleanor,  eagerly.  "  Papa  had  it,  and 
he  told  me  that  the  author  had  studied  the  subject 
by  living  in  the  slums  of  New  York.  I  can  hardly 
believe  that  the  awful  things  he  says  are  true." 

"  I  am  afraid  they  are,"  Patrick  said,  much 
interested ;  "  and  if  they  are,  we  in  Redwood 
don't  know  what  poverty  is.  I  have  been  poor 
all  my  life,"  he  went  on,  reddening  slightly ;  "  but 
I  have  never  suffered  as  the  children  of  the  poor 
suffer  in  New  York." 

Eleanor  looked  at  him  with  a  startled  glance. 
"  What  would  you  do  if  somebody  kept  you  poor 
by  enjoying  what  was  rightly  yours  ?  " 

Patrick  laughed.  "  I  should  claim  it  at  once ; 
for,  above  all  things,  I  long  to  be  rich." 

"And  does  your  mother  long  to  be  rich,  too?" 

"  My  mother?  O,  my  mother  is  content.  She 
is  very  religious,  you  know ;  she  is  a  saint.  To 
make  me  happy,  she  would  rejoice  in  the  direst 


84        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

poverty.  She  is  pious  —  but  of  course  you  don't 
understand  that." 

"I  don't?"  asked  Eleanor,  with  a  shade  of 
annoyance  on  her  face.  "I  suppose  Benson  East- 
wood told  you  that  I  am  impious." 

"  Good  gracious,  no !  "  cried  Patrick,  wishing 
that  he  had  learned  by  heart  what  he  ought  to 
say  before  he  entered  society.  "  But  you  are  not 
a  Catholic,  as  my  mother  is." 

Eleanor  made  no  reply.  "  Well,"  she  said  to 
herself,  "  Catholics  are  bigoted  and  rude."  Never- 
theless Desmond's  admiration  for  his  mother  above 
all  other  women  impressed  her. 

"  I  shall  go  to  see  your  mother  sometime,"  she 
said. 

It  was  Desmond's  turn  to  start.  He  contrasted 
what  seemed  to  him  the  luxury  around  him  with 
the  bareness  of  his  own  home.  No,  Eleanor  Red- 
wood must  not  have  the  opportunity  of  making 
such  a  comparison. 

A  voice  broke  the  short  silence  that  succeeded 
Eleanor's  speech. 

"  I  don't  intend  that  you  shall  monopolize  Mr. 
Desmond,"  said  Laura  Bayard,  in  that  affected 
tone  he  had  noticed  in  Miss  Eastwood.  "  A  lot 
of  people  are  asking  for  refreshments,  Nora." 

Eleanor  exclaimed,  "  O  Laura,  I  forgot !  "  and 
disappeared. 

"  Come,  sit  down,"  Mrs.  Bayard  said.     "  I  want 


'fHE  SUCCESS  OP  PATRICK  DESMOND.        85 

to  talk  to  you.  I  heard  you  say  a  moment  ago 
that  this  was  your  first  party.  It  seems  to  me 
that  you  bear  the  strain  with  a  great  deal  of 
assurance.  You  seem  to  have  got  on  famously." 

Patrick  took  a  chair  near  Mrs.  Bayard.  "  It 
must  be  my  Irish  blood,  —  it  carries  me  with 
diffidence  and  timidity."  His  spirits  were  rising, 
and  he  began  to  think  that  a  Coffee  was  rather 
pleasant. 

"  They  are  bringing  in  the  little  tables  for  the 
refreshments,  and  I'll  have  to  look  for  my  hus- 
band ;  so  I  have  just  time  to  ask  you  whether  you 
would  not  like  to  be  the  owner  of  this  house  and 
all  that  Judge  Redwood  has  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bayard  did  not  notice  that  Belinda  was  in 
the  act  of  placing  a  little  table  about  a  foot  behind 
her  chair. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean,"  began  Patrick, 
evidently  embarrassed. 

"  Well,  I  know,"  she  went  on.  "  Everything 
here  can  be  yours  if  you  want  it.  In  fact,  it  is 
yours  by  right  already." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  —  "  Patrick  reddened  to 
the  roots  of  his  hair,  and  in  his  heart  objurgated 
for  the  thousandth  time  his  habit  of  blushing. 

"  It's  absurd,  Mrs.  Bayard.  You  must  think  I 
am  a  fool  — 

"  Here  comes  Harry.  Come  to  luncheon  to- 
morrow at  the  Howard  House  as  usual,  and  I  can 
tell  you  what  I  mean." 


86        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

She  snapped  her  tinseled  fan  at  him,  and, 
turning,  fairly  ran  into  the  arms  of  Belinda,  who 
pinched  her  arm  viciously. 

"  Laury,"  she  whispered,  "  if  I  knew  what  I 
know  now,  you'd  not  have  got  hold  of  that  letter. 
Why,  I  thought  you  knew  what  it  meant,  —  your 
mother  did.  .And  I  just  gave  you  that  to  satisfy 
your  curiosity.  I  heard  what  you  said  to  young 
Desmond,  and  you've  made  a  big  mistake.  Laury, 
as  sure  as  I  live,  you're  a  viper  I  " 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       87 

VII. 

"  A  touch  of  Nature  —  " 

DESMOND  said  good-by  to  Eleanor  with  a  group 
of  other  people  who  were  taking  their  leave.  She 
scarcely  noticed  him,  so  occupied  was  she  with 
her  duties  as  hostess.  He  was  rather  glad  of 
this :  he  wanted  time  to  think ;  and  he  felt  that 
he  could  not  have  spoken  to  her,  after  Mrs.  Bay- 
ard's hint,  without  embarrassment. 

He  walked  hastily  home.  There  was  a  light  in 
the  parlor,  and  as  he  entered  a  slight  rustle  on 
the  stairs  told  him  that  his  mother  had  been 
waiting  for  him.  He  did  not  sleep  as  well  as 
usual.  He  was  excited,  restless.  How  pretty 
the  scene  had  been.  How  easy  it  was  to  change 
eveiyday  life  into  something  beautiful,  with 
money.  If  he  only  had  money,  he  said  to  him- 
self, he  could  do  anything.  He  was  elated ;  after 
all,  he  had  held  his  own.  His  manners  were  as 
good  and  his  manner  as  acceptable  as  those  of 
any  man  present ;  he  felt  that  he  had  kept  his  self- 
respect  and  held  the  respect  of  the  others.  The 
people  on  the  Hill  were  really  not  so  arrogant  as 
he  had  imagined  them  to  be.  There  was  only 
one  woman  in  the  crowd  who  had  been  insolent. 
He  reddened  again  as  he  recalled  snatches  of  talk 
he  had  overheard. 


8        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  Eleanor  seems  to  be  mixing  people  up,"  Mrs. 
Howard  Sykes  had  said.  "  I  see  that  Desmond 
young  man  from  the  Chair  Factory  here.  The 
Irish  Catholics  are  really  not  all  so  low.  We  can 
stand  some  of  the  men,  but  I  do  hope  Eleanor  will 
not  try  to  force  their  women  on  us." 

Patrick  bit  his  lip  as  he  thought  of  this.  The 
remembrance  of  it  obscured  the  pleasure  he  had 
a  moment  before.  What  made  the  difference 
between  him  and  the  people  on  the  Hill,  between 
his  mother  and  Mrs.  Howard  Sykes?  Only 
money ;  so  far  as  he  could  see,  there  was  no  other 
power  really  recognized  in  Redwood.  Why  had 
he  feared  that  Eleanor  Redwood  would  patronize 
him  ?  It  was  not  that  he  had  felt  she  was  more 
intellectual  or  better  in  any  way  than  he  was.  It 
was  because  she  had  been  surrounded  by  the  ex- 
ternals of  comparative  riches  for  some  time.  Even 
the  Bayards,  Avhom  he  disliked  involuntarily,  had 
a  certain  advantage  over  him  in  this  respect.  He 
ground  his  teeth  as  he  thought  of  it.  What  was 
money,  after  all?  Every  fool  seemed  to  be  able 
to  make  it.  And  yet  when  he  stretched  out  his 
empty  hands  into  the  darkness,  he  exclaimed  with 
shame  that  he  was  not  one  of  these  fools. 

Then  his  thoughts  returned  to  Judge  Red- 
wood's softly  lighted  rooms,  and  he  contrasted 
them  with  the  interior  of  his  mother's  home.  No, 
he  said  to  himself,  Eleanor  should  not  visit  his 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        89 

mother  until  he  had  provided  a  better  place.  He 
knew  that  only  a  short  time  ago  nearly  all  the 
people  on  the  Hill  had  been  glad  to  shelter  them- 
selves under  roofs  even  less  pretentious  than  that 
which  sheltered  him  and  his  mother.  But  times 
had  changed ;  Redwood  soon  forgot  what  it  did 
not  see  and  what  it  preferred  not  to  remember. 

As  the  night  wore  on  he  still  sat  in  the  dark- 
ness, thinking,  thinking,  trying  to  solve  the  social 
problem  that  refused  to  be  solved.  Yes  ;  the  Hill 
people  were  more  amiable  than  he  had  expected. 
In  spite  of  Rena  Eastwood  and  Mrs.  Howard 
Sykes'  speech,  he  had  not  felt  like  an  outsider, 
though  the  splendor  and  perfection  of  the  assem- 
bly had  filled  him  with  awe,  notwithstanding  his 
effort  to  appear  entirely  unimpressed. 

Mrs.  Bayard's  words  came  back  to  him  with 
startling  distinctness.  What  could  they  mean? 
Did  they  mean  anything  ?  Desmond  was  not  more 
conceited  than  most  young  men  of  his  age,  and 
for  a  moment  it  seemed  to  him  that  Eleanor  Red- 
wood might  have  become  interested  in  him,  and 
that  Mrs.  Bayard  had  meant  to  encourage  him. 
But  he  cast  this  flitting  thought  aside,  as  unwor- 
thy of  him.  He  decided,  however,  not  to  go  to 
the  Howard  House  for  his  dinner  the  next  day. 
He  knew  that  Mrs.  Bayard  bore  the  reputation  in 
Redwood  of  having  a  delicate  talent  for  making 
mischief  ;  his  instinct  told  him  that  it  would  not 


90        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

be  proper  for  him  to  be  seen  in  earnest  conversa- 
tion with  her,  as  all  Redwood  knew  that  he  had 
met  her  only  the  night  before.  He  would  wait. 
If  his  acquaintance  with  Eleanor  Redwood  should 
progress,  he  would  probably  learn  what  Mrs. 
Bayard  meant.  At  any  rate,  he  would  never  stoop 
to  discover  the  secret  by  underhand  means.  Who 
would  have  believed  that  Eleanor  Redwood,  whom 
some  people  laughed  at  for  her  pride  and  aristo- 
cratic airs,  was  really  so  amiable  and  womanly  ? 
What  a  sincere  and  truthful  face.  What  a 
graceful  air  — 

When  morning  broke,  his  watchful  mother 
found  Desmond  asleep  on  a  chair  near  the  window, 
with  the  daffodils,  drooping  now,  still  in  his  coat 
buttonhole.  She  shook  her  head  over  it,  and  did 
not  awaken  him. 

Judge  Redwood's  house  had  a  changed  aspect 
on  the  morning  after  the  Coffee.  The  smilax  and 
roses  did  not  seem  as  graceful  or  as  appropriate 
in  the  morning  sunlight  as  they  had  seemed  under 
the  gas  of  the  night  before.  Bits  of  tissue-paper, 
parts  of  the  German  favors,  and  various  shreds 
and  patches  of  the  women's  costume  strewed  the 
floors.  A  careless  driver  had  crossed  the  lawn  by 
mistake,  and  destroyed  one  of  the  most  gorgeous 
of  the  tulip  beds,  leaving  great  ruts  in  the  soft, 
green  expanse.  Besides,  he  had  knocked  down  a 
large  vase  at  the  corner  of  the  drive.  Belinda  was 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        91 

cross  and  nervous.  The  truth  is,  Belinda's  con- 
science troubled  her,  and  she  felt  obliged  to  "  take 
it  out  "  of  everybody  that  came  in  her  way. 

Eleanor  awoke  in  a  very  depressed  condition  of 
mind,  with  a  consciousness  of  a  heavy  weight  at 
her  heart,  which  she  could  not  explain  at  first. 
What  was  the  use  of  all  the  trouble  she  had  taken 
the  night  before  ?  The  dazzling  morning  sun  only 
intensified  her  gloom.  And  now  that  the  excite- 
ment of  her  preparations  for  the  entertainment 
had  died  away,  the  question  of  the  mystery  came 
into  her  mind  with  new  exigency.  She  took  the 
faded  note  in  her  mother's  handwriting  and  read 
it  again  and  again.  What  could  it  mean  ?  Belinda 
came  upstairs  and  deposited  a  cup  of  coffee  on 
her  table. 

"  You  can  come  down  when  you  like,  of  course," 
that  amiable  person  said ;  "  but  if  I  drop  dead  in 
a  state  of  exhaustion  from  overwork,  the  coroner 
won't  hold  }*ou  irresponsible." 

Eleanor .  turned  wearily.  What  did  it  matter 
what  Belinda  said  ?  Nothing  could  make  her 
more  wretched  than  she  was.  Belinda  now  looked 
at  her  with  a  gleam  of  kindliness  in  her  eyes.  If 
she  had  not  such  a  strong  sense  of  dignity,  she 
would  have  spoken  then  and  there.  She  felt  re- 
lieved as  she  saw  the  note  which  had  fallen  on 
Eleanor's  toilet  table.  It  was  out  of  Mrs.  Bay- 
ard's hands,  at  least. 


92       THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

She  hesitated  a  moment.  Should  she  speak  or 
not  ?  It  would  have  been  a  sacrifice  of  her  dig- 
nity to  do  so ;  and,  besides,  Mr.  Stokes  might  advise 
her  to  keep  silence,  —  she  had  great  confidence  in 
Mr.  Stokes.  Another  consideration  moved  her  to 
keep  her  lips  closed  :  what  would  Judge  Redwood 
say  if  she  meddled  in  this  matter  ?  Belinda,  in  the 
course  of  her  domestic  service,  had  lived  with 
nearly  every  family  in  Redwood.  In  addition  to 
this,  her  reputation  as  a  person  of  experience  in 
the  arrangement  of  funerals  was  very  great ;  con- 
sequently she  had  been  brought  into  contact  with 
all  the  gossip  of  the  town,  and  she  knew  that 
Judge  Redwood's  secret  had  been  well  kept.  And 
now  that  she  was  sure  that  Laura's  mother  had 
never  told  her  daughter,  and  that  Patrick  Des- 
mond was  ignorant  of  it,  she  was  amazed  at  this. 
She  left  the  room  somewhat  reluctantly.  She 
realized  that  Eleanor  must  be  unhappy,  and  she 
wished  with  all  her  heart  that,  in  her  desire  to 
bind  Mrs.  Bayard  to  the  cause  of  the  African  Kin- 
dergarten, she  had  not  been  so  impulsive  ;  it  was 
only  a  few  days  before  Mrs.  Bayard's  unfortunate 
visit  that  she  had  unluckily  found  the  forgotten 
letter  in  an  old  box  of  odds  and  ends.  Mrs.  Bay- 
ard's words  to  Desmond  had  opened  her  eyes  to 
the  possible  extent  of  the  injury  she  had  done. 

Eleanor  thanked  Belinda  for  the  coffee,  and 
after  she  had  gone  read  the  letter  again : 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       93 

"  MRS.  DESMOXD  :  —  Guard  my  son  as  you  will  guard 
your  life,  and  I  will  cherish  your  child  until  I  can  speak 
out,  to  tell  of  the  wickedness  of  the  man  who  hates  me 
because  I  am  what  I  am.  Some  day  the  truth  will  out, 
and  my  boy  will  have  his  own. 

CLARISSA  REDWOOD." 

There  was  no  doubt  in  Eleanor's  mind  about  the 
meaning  of  this :  she  was  enjoying  what  belonged 
to  another.  Was  that  other  Patrick  Desmond? 
She  almost  hoped  it  was.  It  would  be  very  easy 
to  give  all  her  fortune  to  him.  She  thought  of 
his  clear,  earnest  look  with  a  feeling  of  consola- 
tion. There,  at  least,  was  truth. 

The  reaction  from  the  excitement  of  the  last  few 
days  had  set  in,  —  Eleanor  was  of  that  elastic 
temperament  which,  while  it  readily  yields  to  the 
call  of  common-sense,  is  easily  exalted  or  depressed. 
The  morning  wore  on ;  she  tried  in  vain  to  con- 
tent herself  with  the  work  that  lay  near  her  hands. 
She  thought  with  dislike  of  the  prospect  of  half  a 
dozen  friends  coming  in  the  afternoon  to  "  talk 
things  over."  As  soon  as  her  father  should  come 
home,  she  would  certainly  ask  him  —  though  it 
would  be  a  great  trial  —  what  the  letter  meant. 
A  fear,  which  she  cast  back  every  time  it  op- 
pressed her,  haunted  her.  Could  it  be  possible 
ihat  she  was  not  Eleanor  Redwood?  -that  there 
was  another  Avho  could  claim  her  father's  name,  as 
well  as  the  rights  that  went  with  it  ?  She  .'.uughed 


94        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

at  the  surmise.  Such  a  thing  could  not  occur 
outside  of  a  sensational  story-book.  An  exchange 
•\£  children  —  it  certainly  was  absurd.  And  the 
absurdity  of  it  made  her  for  the  moment  lose  her 
gloom.  The  very  idea  of  her  father's  being  con- 
nected with  such  a  melodramatic  affair  was  abso- 
lutely humorous.  And  yet  there  was  the  terrible 
letter. 

Eleanor  wondered  how  she  could  have  enjoyed, 
even  endured,  the  entertainment  of  the  preceding 
night.  She  clasped  her  hands,  and,  to  Belinda's 
consternation,  dropped  her  dust-brush  and  burst 
into  tears.  At  that  moment  one  of  the  temporary 
"helps  "  brought  in  a  card  ;  and  Belinda,  having 
read  the  name  on  it,  announced,  "  Mrs.  Howard 
.Sykes." 

Eleanor  dried  her  eyes,  put  on  her  hat  and 
jacket,  and,  flinging  a  hasty  "  not  at  home  "  after 
her,  made  for  the  gate  of  the  back  garden.  She 
stood  for  a  moment  looking  at  the- river.  A  shrill 
whistle  blew  ;  it  was  twelve  o'clock,  and  this  was 
a  signal  for  the  men  in  the  mills  to  quit  work. 
She  resolved  to  go  over  the  river  to  Patrick  Des- 
mond's mother.  Mrs.  Bayard  had  carelessly  said 
that  Desmond  did  not  dine  at  home,  and  that 
she  noticed  him  every  noonday  at  the  Howard 
House.  Eleanor  could  see  Mrs.  Desmond  alone 
and  ask  her.  This  was  her  chance. 

With  that  somewhat  unreasonable  sense  of  relief 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        95 

which  a  resolution,  however  desperate,  often  brings, 
Eleanor  crossed  the  bridge  just  in  time  to  meet  a 
great  crowd  of  the  factory  "  hands  "  on  their  way 
to  dinner.  The  younger  ones  were  as  gay  and 
frisky  as  possible  ;  the  older  men  and  women  were 
more  sedate.  They  were  mostly  Swedes  and  Poles, 
with  an  Irishman  here  and  there.  What  a  dread- 
ful thing  it  must  be  to  be  obliged  to  follow  the 
sound  of  a  bell ;  to  have  to  go  and  come  at  the 
command  of  others;  to  work  and  work,  and  begin 
work  again.  Still,  the  girls  and  women  were  not 
unhappy-looking.  They  laughed  and  exchanged 
jokes,  and  were  extremely  vivacious,  —  that  is,  the 
Poles  were ;  the  Swedes,  blond-haired  and  blue- 
gowned,  were  more  silent. 

Eleanor  did  not  find  it  hard  to  reach  Mrs.  Des- 
mond's house.  A  question  or  two  to  the  nearest 
child  set  ,her  right.  The  house  was  a  dazzlingly 
white  frame  dwelling,  with  a  veranda  in  front, 
well-curtained  with  vines,  budding  almost  visibly 
in  the  spring  sunshine.  It  stood  back  a  little  from 
the  street.  Eleanor  was  agreeably  surprised  at  the 
air  of  comfort  and  the  neatness  that  reigned  in  this 
part  of  the  town.  She  had  expected  to  see  signs 
of  deep  poverty  and  depression.  She  knocked  at 
the  white  door  timidly.  At  that  moment  she 
asked  herself  whether  Mrs.  Desmond  might  not 
confront  her  as  an  intruder. 

The  door  opened,  and  a    rose-tinted,  wrinkled 


96        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

face,  full  of  sweetness  and  gentleness,  beneath  a 
white  cap-frill,  met  Eleanor's  gaze.  Patrick's 
mother  was  a  little  woman,  and  she  had  to  turn 
up  her  eyes  to  see  Eleanor's  countenance.  She 
was  dressed  in  the  dark  gown,  with  lace  collar,  she 
always  wore  when  she  expected  Patrick  or  "  com- 
pany." If  Eleanor  had  known  what  the  collar 
meant,  she  would  have  postponed  her  entrance 
until  another  day.  Mrs.  Desmond  smiled,  and 
begged  her  visitor  to  excuse  her  just  one  minute : 
she  had  something  "  on  the  stove."  Eleanor  drew 
out  one  of  the  horsehair  chairs  —  Mrs.  Desmond's 
pride  —  and  sat  down,  following  her  hostess'  in- 
vitation. 

The  odor  of  the  hyacinth  and  the  mignonette 
on  the  window-shelf  filled  the  room.  Eleanor  ad- 
mired its  extreme  neatness,  and  wondered  at  the 
flamboyant  and  stunning  greens  and  reds  in  the  pict- 
ure of  St.  Patrick  over  the  mantelpiece  —  colors 
which  "  swore  at "  the  other  reds  and  greens  in 
the  brilliant  piece  of  carpet  in  the  centre  of  the 
room.  Eleanor  looked  at  the  narrow  room,  and 
said  to  herself  that  this  was  no  place  for  a  man 
like  Patrick  Desmond.  A  man  like  him  ought  to 
be  set  in  a  palace. 

At  this  moment  Mrs.  Desmond  came  in.  Sue 
was  rather  heated  from  too  close  contact  with  the 
stove,  and  perhaps  a  little  flurried  by  the  presence 
of  a  visitor.  She  smiled  a  welcome,  nevertheless, 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        97 

although  it  was  her  private  opinion  that  Miss  Red- 
wood was  a  very  good-looking  book  agent. 

"  I  thought  I  might  come  to  see  you,"  began 
Eleanor,  drawing  her  mother's  letter,  from  her 
purse  ;  "  but  I'm  almost  afraid —  " 

"  Oh !  I'm  very  sorry,  dear,  that  I  can't  sub- 
scribe to-day.  We've  just  finished  taking  '  The 
Parnell  Movement '  in  fifty-four  parts,  and  it  is 
not  ended  yet ;  and  we've  had  '  The  Lives  of  the 
Popes '  coming  for  the  last  two  years  —  but  you 
look  tired  ;  let  me  get  you  a  cup  of  tea?  " 

"  No  —  oh,  no,"  said  Eleanor,  somewhat  taken 
aback  by  this  information.  "  I  am  afraid  you  take 
me  for  somebody  else."  At  another  time  all 
Eleanor's  carefully  cultivated  aristocratic  preju- 
dices would  have  been  aroused  by  Mrs.  Des- 
mond's mistake  ;  but  to-day  she  felt  very  humble. 
"  I  am  not  selling  books.  If  I  were,"  she  added, 
with  one  of  those  perceptions  of  the  humorous 
which  were  apt  to  strike  her  at  incongruous  times, 
"  I  should  have  called  you  'the  lady  of  the  house.' 
I  fancy  you  remember  my  mother,  Mrs.  Desmond  ? 
I  am  Eleanor  Redwood." 

"  Dear,  dear !  "  said  Mrs.  Desmond,  putting  on 
her  spectacles.  "  Ah,  yes.  You  have  the  look  of 
Clarissa  Waldron.  I  knew  her  well." 

Mrs.  Desmond,  under  other  circumstances,  would 
have  made  a  dozen  apologies ;  as  it  was,  she  forgot 
them,  and  took  both  Eleanor's  hands  in  hers.  Her 


98        THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

voice  was  so  soft  —  with  the  pathos  of  intonation 
so  charming  in  many  Irish  voices,  as  in  many  Irish 
melodies,  —  that  Eleanor  felt  a  new  sense  of  peace. 

"  Oh !  Mrs.  Desmond,"  she  said,  beginning  to  cry, 
"  you  knew  my  mother.  Tell  me  all." 

She  held  Mrs.  Desmond's  hands  now  with  a 
nervous  clasp.  The  latter,  starting  at  her  ques- 
tion, had  almost  withdrawn  them ;  but  Eleanor 
held  them  fast.  The  color  left  Mrs.  Desmond's 
face  for  an  instant ;  she  gently  disengaged  herself ; 
she  wanted  to  gain  time  to  think. 

"  Wait,  dear,  till  I  get  you  a  cup  of  tea." 

Before  Eleanor  could  protest,  the  elder  woman 
had  left  the  room.  When  she  returned  with  the  tea, 
she  had  regained  her  calmness.  She  made  Eleanor 
drink  it,  while  she  fixed  her  own  eyes  on  a  little 
card  picture  of  Our  Lady  of  Good  Counsel  which 
stood  on  the  mantel-shelf. 

"  You  must  tell  me  all,"  Eleanor  said,  drawing 
Mrs.  Desmond  toward  her.  "  Oh !  you  don't  know 
how  unhappy  I  am.  I  can  bear  anything  better 
than  suspense." 

Mrs.  Desmond  drew  a  chair  beside  Eleanor's, 
and  was  silent ;  Eleanor  could  see  that  she  was 
praying. 

"  I  ought  to  know  the  truth.  Read  this,  my 
mother's  own  letter." 

Slowly  and  carefully  Mrs.  Desmond  —  who 
seldom  read  anything  but  her  prayer-book  now  — 
mastered  the  contents  of  the  note. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATliICK  DESMOND.        99 

"  Where  did  you  get  this  ?  "  she  asked,  gravely. 

"  I  found  it  in  one  of  my  father's  note-books, 
—  it  dropped  out,"  Eleanor  answered. 

"  But  it  was  intended  for  me,  though  I  had  no 
right  to  receive  it,  —  poor  Clarissa  !  "  Mrs.  Des- 
mond murmured  these  last  words  to  herself. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Desmond,"  said  Eleanor,  putting 
her  arms  about  the  old  woman's  neck,  "  tell  me 
the  truth.  I  shall  die  if  I  have  to  wait  until  my 
father  comes  home.  Whom  can  I  trust  ?  " 

"  You  can  trust  your  father,"  said  Mrs.  Des- 
mond, with  a  dignity  which,  gentle  and  unas- 
sertive as  it  was,  gave  Eleanor  some  comfort. 
The  worst  fear  of  all  had  been  that  a  time  might 
come  when  she  could  not  trust  her  father. 

"  Give  him  this  note,"  continued  Mrs.  Desmond. 
"  He  will  tell  you  to  trust  him  and  ask  no  ques- 
tions. It  means  nothing  to  you  and  nothing  to 
me.  It  should  have  been  destroyed." 

"  It  means  nothing?  "  asked  Eleanor  doubtfully. 
She  looked  into  Mrs.  Desmond's  eyes,  and  read 
truth  there;  she  threw  her  arms  around  the  old 
woman's  neck.  "  I  believe  you,"  she  said ;  "  I 
believe  you.  I  will  ask  my  father,  and  abide  by 
what  he  says.  But,  oh !  why  should  I  not  know 
w!;y  my  mother  wrote  this  ?  " 

A  pained  look  crossed  Mrs.  Desmond's  face ; 
she  put  her  wrinkled  hand  on  Eleanor's  head  as  if 
in  blessing.  The  door  softly  opened,  and  Patrick 


100      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

entered  without  ceremony.  His  mother,  for 
almost  the  first  time  in  her  life,  had  forgotten 
him. 


VIII. 

"  The  root  of  all  evil.  : 

PATRICK  stood  at  the  door  in  amazement.  His 
mother's  hand  rested  on  Eleanor's  head  caress- 
ingly, and  the  girl's  eyes  were  turned  lovingly  to 
the  face  of  the  older  woman.  He  recognized 
Eleanor  Redwood  at  once,  though  the  room  was 
darker  than  the  sun-illumined  street.  He  stood 
with  one  hand  on  the  knob,  irresolute.  It  seemed 
as  if  he  were  in  a  dream.  He  had  been  thinking 
of  Eleanor  all  the  way  from  the  factory,  and  here 
she  was  in  his'  own  house.  Pygmalion  could  not 
have  been  more  startled  when  the  statue  came  to 
life. 

Mrs.  Desmond  looked  up,  with  tenderness  in 
her  eyes.  Her  whole  heart  had  gone  out  to  the 
girl  at  her  side.  But  when  she  saw  her  son,  her 
expression  changed ;  and  she  drew  her  hand  away 
from  Eleanor's  forehead,  as  she  noticed  that 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      101 

Eleanor  raised  her  face  toward  Patrick  with  a 
new  interest  in  it. 

It  is  a  great  mistake  to  imagine  that  words  are 
the  most  potent  expressions  of  feeling :  they  are 
only  after-thoughts ;  they  are  to  looks  what  the 
mail  is  to  the  telegraph  —  only  more  swift. 

In  an  instant  Mrs.  Desmond's  fear  and  perhaps 
a  little  jealousy,  was  aroused.  If  it  takes  a 
superior  woman  to  make  an  old  maid,  it  takes  a 
more  superior  woman  to  make  a  perfect  mother- 
in-law.  And  even  Mrs.  Desmond,  who  was  very 
gentle  and  very  true,  felt  a  pang  of  jealousy  as 
she  saw  the  young  people  look  at  each  other.  To 
her  there  was  no  man  on  earth  like  Patrick. 
He  was  a  child  still  —  a  child  and  a  man;  or, 
rather,  a  child  in  a  man,  —  her  protector  and  her 
ward  at  once.  Her  thoughts,  as  quick  and  as  keen 
as  arrows,  went  forward  into  the  future.  Here, 
perhaps,  was  the  woman  who  would  some  day  be 
the  dearest  in  her  son's  heart ;  and  for  an  instant 
she  almost  wished  that  her  son  were  a  cripple 
instead  of  the  handsome  youth  he  was.  Then  she 
might  at  least  have  him  all  to  herself. 

After  the  first  amazement  had  passed,  Desmond 
stepped  forward  and  shook  hands  with  Eleanor. 
The  room  suddenly  became  sordid  in  his  eyes. 
What  would  she  think  of  him  for  not  giving  his 
mother  a  better  place,  full  of  those  little  modern 
touches  of  refinement  which  Eleanor  knew  so 


102      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

well?  That  thing  which  he  most  wished  to 
avoid  had  happened.  She  saw  his  poverty ; 
she  saw  him,  not  at  his  best,  but  at  his 
worst.  No  doubt,  in  spite  of  her  gracious 
manner,  she  was  wondering  at  the  great  green  and 
red  daub  of  a  chromo  on  the  mantelpiece,  and 
hating  the  smell  of  the  dinner  which  came  from 
the  kitchen.  In  truth,  Eleanor  was  thinking  of 
none  of  these  things.  Mrs.  Desmond's  motherly 
sympathy  had  taken  a  great  load  from  her  heart, 
and  the  coming  of  Patrick  had  elated  her  for  the 
moment.  Whether  the  scent  from  the  kitchen 
suggested  beefsteak  or  orange  blossoms  was  to  her 
at  that  time  a  matter  of  indifference. 

Mrs.  Desmond  hesitated  for  a  moment  and 
slipped  away.  After  all,  the  momentous  affair  of 
the  hour  was  Patrick's  dinner.  She  was  hospi- 
table to  the  inner  fibres  of  her  heart:  Eleanor 
must  not  leave  the  house  without  having  par- 
taken of  her  salt.  She  hastily  made  such  changes 
in  the  arrangements  of  her  table  as  befitted  a  new 
guest. 

In  the  meantime  the  young  people  had  not 
said  much.  Eleanor  had  thanked  Patrick  aq-ain 

o 

for  coming  to  her  Coffee,  and  he  had  responded 
that  he  had  enjoyed  it  extremely.  Much  as  he 
felt  the  charm  of  her  presence,  he  wished  that  she 
would  go.  How  would  his  mother's  homely  ways 
strike  her?  She  noticed  the  flowers  in  the 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      103 

window,  and  spoke  of  them ;  and  all  the  time  he 
was  fiercely  wishing  that  he  had  money  —  money, 
that  he  might  stand  as  the  equal  of  this  woman, 
whom  in  his  heart  he  now  accused  of  being  proud 
and  scornful,  because  her  manner  was  so  entirely 
simple  and  kind.  This  accusation  was  the  result 
of  his  own  pride,  but  he  did  not  realize  it.  He 
felt  that  he  could  not  endure  the  presence  of 
Eleanor  Redwood  until  he  could  be  her  equal  in 
every  respect. 

It  was  strange  how  all  his  manhood  seemed  to 
shrink  before  the  fetich  which  he  had  raised,  and 
whose  importance  his  education  in  the  atmosphere 
of  Redwood  had  caused  him  to  exaggerate.  All 
Eleanor's  charm,  the  atmosphere  of  truth  and 
purity,  seemed  to  him  to  be  the  outcome  of 
money ;  and  his  present  embarrassment,  his  diffi- 
dence, his  mortification,  was  the  result  of  his  own 
lack  of  money.  And  the  worst  of  it  was  that  he 
did  not  even  know  how  vulgar  and  despicable  he 
was  for  allowing  these  impressions  to  dominate 
him ;  for  one  might  as  well  attribute  the  God-given 
distinction  of  a  wild  rose  to  money  as  to  fancy 
that  money  could  have  made  Eleanor  Redwood 
what  she  was. 

Eleanor  politely  refused  Mrs.  Desmond's  invita- 
tion to  have  a  cup  of  tea.  Patrick  hoped  that  she 
might  persist  in  it ;  but  his  mother's  hospitality 
was  aflame,  and  denial  was  impossible.  She  almost 


104      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOtfD. 

laid  violent  hands  on  Eleanor's  jacket  and  hat. 
Patrick  ran  upstairs  and  hastily  improved  his 
toilet.  In  a  little  while  he  was  seated  opposite  to 
Eleanor,  in  the  small  apartment  which  served  both 
as  kitchen  and  dressing-room.  He  was  mortified, 
rebellious.  Why  could  his  mother  not  see  how 
incongruous  Eleanor's  presence  was  ?  He  forgot 
that,  brought  in  close  contact  with  Miss  Redwood, 
his  mother  saw,  not  one  of  the  "  quality  "  on  the 
Hill,  but  the  daughter  of  an  old  friend.  Eleanor, 
understanding  how  much  care  was  necessaiy  to 
produce  the  exquisite  neatness  visible  in  Mrs. 
Desmond's  arrangements,  was  silently  admiring, 
while  Patrick  fancied  she  was  silently  scornful. 

Mrs.  Desmond  waited  on  the  two,  with  no  sense 
of  the  unfitness  of  it  felt  by  her  son.  Eleanor  in- 
sisted upon  helping  her,  and  Patrick's  mortification 
was  somewhat  mitigated  by  her  grace  and  tact. 
Nevertheless,  it  was  a  bad  hour  for  him. 

At  last  Eleanor  rose  to  go,  and  Patrick  followed 
her ;  it  was  nearly  time  for  him  to  start  back  to 
the  office.  Eleanor,  having  put  on  her  hat  and 
jacket,  took  Mrs.  Desmond's  hand  and  then  kissed 
her  with  a  deprecatory  "  May  I?  "  In  spite  of  his 
desire  to  stay  with  his  mother  in  order  to  find  out 
the  cause  of  Eleanor's  visit,  politeness  obliged 
Patrick  to  accompany  her. 

"  Don't  forget  to  stop  at  the  church,  dear,"  his 
mother  said,  "  and  make  your  visit.  It's  the  Forty 
Hours'  Devotion,  you  know." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICE  DESMOND.     105 

He  promised.  Eleanor,  with  another  good-by- 
te his  mother,  walked  down  the  street  by  his  side. 
Mrs.  Desmond  watched  them  from  the  porch. 

"  A  good-looking  pair,"  she  murmured.  "  But  I 
hope  to  Heaven  that  the  boy  will  leave  this  place 
soon.  I'd  rather  see  him  dead  than  marry  her." 

Eleanor  looked  very  fresh  and  bright.  She  was 
almost  at  peace  with  herself.  She  kept  pace  with 
Patrick's  elastic  tread ;  for,  unlike  most  of  the 
Redwood  ladies,  she  was  a  constant  walker.  Pat- 
rick, in  his  mind,  compared  her  to  a  graceful  yacht 
at  sea  on  a  clear  day. 

"  Do  we  pass  the  church?  "  she  asked,  —  "  that 
is,  I  mean  is  the  church  on  my  way  home,  too?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  We  reach  it  before  we  come  to  the 
bridge,"  he  answered. 

"  I  have  never  been  in  a  Catholic  church,"  she 
said.  "  What  do  you  call  this  one  ?  " 

"  The  Church  of  the  Holy  Innocents.  I  am 
afraid  you  would  be  disappointed  if  you  entered 
it.  It  is  a  little  wooden  church ;  for  we  Catholics 
are  not  rich  —  yet." 

"  And  do  you  think  that  makes  so  much  differ- 
ence ?  "  she  asked,  with  rather  a  wistful  look  in 
her  eyes. 

"  All  the  difference  in  the  world,"  he  answered, 
promptly.  "My  mother  would  have  me  believe 
that  religion  makes  a  man  happy  whether  he  is 
rich  or  poor.  Nothing  but  money  can  make  a 
poor  man  happy." 


106      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Eleanor  stopped  for  a  second  and  gave  him  a 
startled  look  from  her  soft,  clear  eyes.  "  If  I  be- 
lieved that  —  "  she  began  ;  then  she  paused.  "  I 
would  rather  die  than  believe  that." 

"You  do  believe  it,"  he  remarked,  with  a  hai-sh 
note  in  his  voice.  "  And  everybody  in  Redwood 
believes  it." 

"  My  father  does  not,"  said  Eleanor,  decidedly. 

"  I  don't  know  him,  —  he  is  probably  an  excep- 
tion. But  I  know,  Miss  Redwood,  that  nothing 
counts  so  much  in  our  life  as  money.  Don't  we 
see  it  every  day  ?  There  is  that  Mrs.  Sykes  —  I 
met  her  at  your  house  last  night.  Why  do  people 
court  her  ?  Because  she  is  rich." 

"  She  has  a  good  heart,  she  is  kind  to  the  poor, 
she  is  an  old  friend  of  my  mother's  —  " 

"  And  her  husband  is  the  richest  man  in  Red- 
wood." 

Eleanor's  eyes  flashed ;  she  looked  straight  at 
Patrick.  "  You  don't  seem  to  know  what  you  are 
saying,  —  or  implying,  rather.  Riches  may  count 
here,  but  there  are  other  qualities  that  count  more. 
A  rich  man  or  woman  without  those  qualities  has 
a  better  chance  than  if  he  or  she  were  poor.  But 
if  a  poor  man  or  woman  is  good  and  clever,  I  fancy 
there  is  just  as  much  chance  for  them  socially  in 
Redwood  as  anywhere  else." 

"  Just  as  much,"  said  Patrick,  bitterly. 

Eleanor's  spirit  was  aroused.     "  Why  do  people 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      107 

love  my  father  ?  Not  because  he  is  rich,  but  be- 
cause he  is  clever  and  kind.  It  adds  something 
to  it,  of  course,  that  he  has  a  house  into  which  he 
can  invite  people,  and  that  he  is  not  poor.  But 
were  he  poor  to-morrow  —  were  I  obliged  to  work 
in  the  factory,  —  our  people  here  in  Redwood 
would  not  be  less  kind." 

"  You  would  not  be  asked  to  Coffees,"  said 
Patrick,  laughing,  yet  with  a  trace  of  bitterness. 

"  I  should  not  go.  But  I  imagine  that  people 
would  ask  me  until  they  felt  sure  that  I  preferred 
not  to  be  asked.  I  don't  know  the  large  cities  in 
America,  but  in  our  city  many  things  count  more 
than  money." 

"  Nothing  counts  as  much  as  money.  It  is  power. 
Look  at  me.  See  what  I  have  suffered  for  the 
lack  of  a  little  money.  I  have  been  obliged  to 
wear  clothes  I  was  ashamed  of.  I  went  to  a 
wretched  school,  where  nothing  was  taught  except 
the  rudiments  and  the  catechism  ;  we  poor  people 
over  the  river  couldn't  afford  anything  better.  I 
sold  papers,  I  dug  gardens,  I  burned  with  heat  in 
summer  and  froze  in  winter,  in  order  to  buy  books. 
I  was  determined  not  to  be  kept  down  ;  and  I  have 
an  ambitious  mother,  though  she  would  be  different 
from  what  she  is  if  she  were  not  poor." 

"  Why  should  you  want  her  to  be  different 
from  what  she  is  ?  "  asked  Eleanor,  indignantly. 
At  this  moment  she  felt  contempt  for  Desmond,  — 


108      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

a  contempt  as  unjustifiable  as  it  was  intense. 
She  would  have  liked  to  speak  her  mind  to  him, 
but  she  felt  that  her  acquaintance  with  him  was 
too  short  for  that. 

They  had  reached  the  church.  It  was  a  weath- 
erbeaten  frame  structure,  punctured  by  white- 
sashed  windows.  Desmond  paused  at  the  door 
and  said :  "  I  suppose  I  must  say  good-by." 

"  Why  can't  I  go  in  ?  "  Eleanor  asked. 

"  Oh !  you  may  if  you  wish,  "  he  answered. 
"  But  you'll  find  everything  poor  and  cheap," 
he  added,  apologetically. 

Eleanor  followed  him  into  the  little  church. 
The  shades  of  the  windows  were  down,  and  the 
body  of  the  church  was  in  gloom.  The  only 
points  of  light  were  the  candles  on  the  altar; 
and  in  the  centre  of  them  was  the  radiant  Host, 
surrounded  by  flowers. 

To  Eleanor,  coming  in  from  the  brilliancy  of 
the  noonday  sun,  the  darkness  of  the  church 
and  the  splendor  of  the  altar  were  exaggerated. 
Desmond  showed  her  to  a  pew.  When  her  eyes 
became  accustomed  to  the  gloom,  she  saw  that 
there  were  several  people  in  the  church.  There 
was  Jack  Conlon,  whom  she  knew  by  sight, 
kneeling  with  a  rapt  devotion.  She  was  sur- 
prised, for  she  had  never  noticed  him  with  a  long 
face,  —  and  a  "  long  face  "  was  an  outward  sign  of 
veligion;  in  fact,  he  was  known  as  "Laughing 


fHE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        109 

Jack."  Not  far  from  him  was  Ellie  Reardon,  one 
of  Belinda's  "  helps,"  with  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
altar  in  breathless  ecstasy.  Next  to  her  was 
Felix  Brent,  the  exclusive  lawyer  from  New  Or- 
leans, whom  Redwood  society  had  striven  in  vain 
to  capture,  and  who  was  looked  on  with  a  certain 
respect  very  rare  in  democratic  Redwood.  Des- 
mond knelt,  too ;  and  then  there  was  such  silence 
that  the  delicious  scents  from  the  flowers  on  the 
altar  seemed  to  break  it.  The  street  was  quiet 
at  this  hour,  and  no  sound  from  anywhere  marred 
the  stillness. 

Eleanor  was  awed  and  peaceful.  She  did  not 
understand  it  all.  She  knew  that  it  meant  prayer ; 
and  the  sight  of  Desmond  on  his  knees  raised  her 
respect  for  him.  She  knew  well  no  really  relig- 
ious man  except  Mr.  Stokes  and  one  or  two  of 
the  ministers  ;  and  it  seemed  to  be  part  of  their 
business  to  be  religious.  It  was  refreshing  to 
know  a  man  who  was  sure  of  his  belief  and  pub- 
licly professed  it,  and  who  was  not  a  minister. 
She  longed  to  know  what  it  all  meant.  The  shut- 
ter of  one  of  the  windows  had  a  chink  in  it ;  and, 
as  she  was  thinking,  a  ray  of  light  fell  upon  the 
face  of  the  statue  of  the  Mother  of  God  on  one  of 
the  little  side  altars.  It  was  not  a  great  statue, 
but  it  had  a  beautiful  face,  and  the  light  suddenly 
thrown  on  it  made  it  lifelike.  Eleanor  was  start- 
led by  the  appearance  of  the  lovely  face  through 


110      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

the  gloom.  "  Mary  !  "  she  said,  almost  involun- 
tarily; and,  burying  her  face  in  her  hands,  she 
repeated  the  "Our  Father."  A  "strange,  celes- 
tial brightness  "  seemed  to  fill  her  heart  after  this. 
Desmond  went  out,  and  she  followed  him  into 
the  sunlight. 

"I  suppose  you  think  this  is  all  very  child- 
like?" he  said,  apologetically,  as  they  walked 
toward  the  bridge. 

"  Not  at  all !  "  she  answered,  indignantly. 

"  Your  ministers  think  that  it  is  worse  than 
childish,  and  are  constantly  saying  so." 

"  But  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  impres- 
sions," said  Eleanor.  "  Besides,  our  clever  min- 
isters do  not  say  that  any  more  ;  and  Protestants 
are  becoming  too  enlightened  to  endure  the  stupid 
ones,  who  try  to  frighten  us  from  the  consider- 
ation of  our  shortcomings  by  abusing  Popery." 
Eleanor  laughed.  "  That's  a  quotation  from  papa, 
I  must  admit." 

Desmond  asked  himself  whether  she  was  say- 
ing this  merely  to  please  him  or  not.  She,  who 
was  accustomed  to  the  beautiful  temples  which 
the  Baptists  and  Presbyterians  had  raised  in  Red- 
wood, must  be  contemptuous  in  her  heart  at  the 
remembrance  of  the  poor  little  Catholic  church. 

"  Some  day,  when  I  have  become  rich,  I  shall 
return  to  Redwood  and  build  a  church  for  our 
people  that  nobody  will  sneer  at,"  he  said,  with  a 
tcuch  of  offence  in  his  tone. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      Ill 

"  How  heroic,  how  noble  !  "  she  answered,  giv- 
ing her  tongue  its  freedom.  "  You" will  build  a 
church,  not  to  please  God,  but  to  outshine  other 
churches.  How  worthy  of  your  belief  you  are ! 
I  can  tell  you,  Mr.  Desmond,  that  we  —  my  father 
and  I,  and  I  imagine  we  are  fair  representatives 
of  American  non-Catholics  —  might  sneer  at  your 
bedizened,  mock-splendid,  rich  church,  but  that  we 
would  never  sneer  at  the  church  I  was  in  to-day. 
Faith  was  there  and  God  was  there.  I  don't 
know  much  about  the  Catholic  Church;  I  do 
know  that,  if  you  represent  it,  it  is  infinitely  bet- 
ter than  its  people.  Good-by,  Mr.  Desmond." 

Patrick  stood  and  watched  her.  A  hot  flush 
mounted  his  cheek.  She  had  insulted  him  with- 
out provocation,  arid  he  could  not  find  words  to 
answer  her.  He  was  intensely  angry;  and  yet, 
down  in  his  heart,  he  felt  that  her  manner  and 
words  could  not  sting  him  so  if  he  was  sure  that 
he  did  not  deserve  the  rebuke.  How  graceful 
and  stately  she  was,  —  how  admirable  in  face  and 
expression.  And  yet  how  insolent,  how  insult- 
ing. He  would  make  her  change  her  mariner. 
And  then  suddenly  he  remembered  that  he  was 
only  a  clerk  in  a  chair  factory  on  his  way  to  work. 

"  I  will  make  her  respect  me,"  he  said.  "  I  will 
be  rich  and  powerful,  and  then  —  " 

But  she  had  seemed  to  disdain  riches  and 
power.  He  went  toward  the  factory  in  a  turbu- 
lent state  of  mind. 


112      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Eleanor,  crossing  the  bridge,  became  utterly 
depressed.  She  had,  unconsciously,  idealized 
Desmond ;  he  seemed  so  good,  so  honest,  so  true, 
so  high-minded.  She  realized  that  she  had  spent 
more  thought  in  creating  a  halo  for  him  than  she 
had  imagined.  He  was  a  —  she  could  not  find  an 
epithet  for  him  until  she  struck  the  English  word 
"  cad  " ;  he  was  a  cad,  to  apologize  for  his  mother 
and  for  his  religion.  And  the  worst  of  it  all  was 
that  the  apology  was  not  directed  to  Eleanor  Red- 
wood, the  woman  of  culture  who  read  Browning 
twice  a  week,  or  to  Eleanor  Redwood,  who  had 
managed  to  connect  her  pedigree  with  that  of 
King  Harold  the  conquered ;  but  to  Eleanor  Red- 
wood the  rich.  She  could  have  cried.  If  Desmond 
could  have  known  this,  it  might  have  soothed  the 
turmoil  of  his  feelings. 

On  his  desk  he  found  a  note  from  Mrs.  Bayard : 

DEAR  MR.  DESMOND,  —  As  you  did  not  come  to 
dinner  at  the  Howard  House,  I  take  the  liberty  of  in- 
forming you  that  you  will  find  it  to  your  advantage  to 
insist  on  your  mother's  telling  you  why  Judge  Eedwood 
retains  your  property.  I  may  say,  for  fear  that  a  wicked 
world  might  misunderstand  me,  that  my  interest  in  you 
is  pecuniary.  And,  if  you  succeed  in  obtaining  your 
own,  a  check  for  an  amount  commensurate  with  my  ser- 
vice would  be  agreeable.  Please  tear  up  this  letter,  as 
I  am  not  sure  whether  '  succeed  '  is  spelled  with  two  c's 
or  one. 

Yours  sincerely, 

LAURA  BAYARD. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Patrick  plunged  into  work,  for  he  had  great 
power  of  concentration.  But  when  the  day  was 
done  he  went  like  a  whirlwind  homeward.  He 
wanted  to  know  two  things :  the  meaning  of  this 
note,  and  why  Eleanor  had  called  on  his  mother. 

Mrs.  Desmond,  without  hesitation,  answered 
his  questions.  She  was  indignant  with  Laura 
Bayard. 

"  She's  a  bad  woman,"  Mrs.  Desmond  said, 
warmly ;  "  and  it's  hard  to  think  that  the  like  of 
her  can  be  a  friend  of  Miss  Redwood's.  And  now, 
Patrick,  you  understand  it  all;  and  if  you  want 
to  know  anything  more  about  it,  ask  Dr.  Talbot ; 
he's  kept  the  secret  well.  And  isn't  Eleanor 
Redwood  the  fine  girl.  Not  that  I'd  want  you  to 
be  thinking  of  her  at  all ;  for  I'd  rather  see  you 
dead  than  married  to  her  —  " 

"  Mother,"  interrupted  Patrick,  impatiently,  "  I 
don't  like  her ;  but  if  I  wanted  to  make  a  mixed 
marriage,  I  would  —  " 

"  God  forbid,"  said  his  mother,  making  the 
Sign  of  the  Cross. 

«'  A  man  can't  be  bound  by  such  old-fashioned 
opinions.  Religion  is  a  good  thing,  at  any 
rate  — "  he  broke  off,  seeing  the  look  of  pain  on 
his  mother's  face,  "  Eleanor  Redwood  will  never 
think  of  me  in  that  way,  nor,"  he  added,  bit- 
terly, "  will  I  of  her." 

"  God  keep  you  to  that,  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Des- 


114      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATE  1C K  DESMOND. 

mond  ;  "  for  didn't  you  understand  me  a  moment 
ago  when  I  told  you  that  Eleanor's  mother  was 
insane  ?  " 

"  And  what  difference  would  that  make  in  the 
matter  of  marriage  ? "  asked  the  young  man, 
quite  willing  for  the  moment  to  put  Eleanor  away 
from  him,  but  not  willing  that  circumstances 
should  do  that  office. 

Mrs.  Desmond  threw  up  her  hands  in  despair. 

A  sharp  knock  sounded  at  the  door.  Patrick 
opened  it ;  a  blue-coated  boy  handed  him  a  yellow 
envelope  ;  it  was  a  telegram  for  his  mother ;  and 
he  read : 

"  Miles  is  not  well.  Send  Patrick  at  once,  if  he  does 
not  drink. 

GALLIGAN." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     115 


IX. 

"  Love  is  without  reason." 

—  Coventry  Patmore. 

DESMOND  concluded  to  obey  the  mandate  of 
Mrs.  Miles  Galligan.  His  mother  was  almost 
feverishly  eager  that  he  should  go.  His  very 
protestation  that  he  would  never  think  of  Eleanor 
Redwood  with  any  warmer  feeling  than  a  kind  of 
passive  dislike  alarmed  her.  Her  experience  told 
her  that  the  fact  of  Eleanor's  seeming  beyond  his 
reach  would  most  probably  bring  about  a  marriage 
she  was  anxious  to  avoid.  She  had  not  the  slight- 
est doubt  that  Eleanor  would  consent ;  in  fact,  she 
was  sure  the  young  girl's  visit  to  her  had  been 
made  with  a  view  of  improving  the  acquaintance 
of  Patrick. 

She  did  not  find  fault  with  Eleanor  for  this.  In 
her  mind,  it  was  as  natural  that  every  human  being 
should  seek  to  be  friendly  with  her  son  as  for  the 
bees  to  buzz  around  the  maple  buds.  It  was  bet- 
ter that  Patrick  should  be  out  of  danger.  Eleanor 
Redwood  was  certainly  a  nice  girl,  but  there  was 
insanity  in  the  family ;  besides,  she  was  not  a 
Catholic.  Mrs.  Desmond  looked  on  a  mixed  mar- 
riage with  almost  as  much  aversion  as  insanity. 
If  the  day's  events  had  been  different,  she  would 
have  dropped  many  a  tear  as  she  packed  her  son's 


116     THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

trunk ;  but  as  it  was,  she  examined  the  fastenings 
of  buttons  and  rubbed  at  slight  spo  ;s  with  a  calm 
philosophy  which  nothing  but  the  appearance  on 
the  scene  of  a  suspected  rival  for  a  place  in  Pat- 
rick's heart  could  have  induced  her  to  acquire. 

Her  son,  who  was  entirely  ignorant  of  the  art 
of  packing  a  trunk,  went  down  to  the  river  to 
meet  Jack  Conlon.  Jack  was  smoking  as  usual ; 
he  stood  at  his  father's  gate  in  the  green  oasis, 
which  was  brilliantly  green  with  all  the  freshness 
of  spring.  The  frogs  had  begun  their  chorus  in 
the  shallow  places  of  the  river ;  and  a  twittering, 
a  lilting,  a  mixture  of  melody  and  harmony  from 
nestward-bound  birds,  filled  the  air.  The  large 
maple  at  the  gate,  among  whose  buds  the  bees 
had  added  the  tones  of  a  bass-viol  to  the  orches- 
tra of  the  spring  all  the  day,  showed  red  against 
the  pale  sky. 

Jack  nodded  as  Patrick  stepped  up  to  him. 
"  I  have  good  news,"  he  said ;  "  my  father  is  bet- 
ter. If  he  continues  to  improve,  I  shall  return  to 
the  seminary  in  a  few  days." 

"  I  am  glad  of  that,  —  heartily  glad.  I  have 
something  to  tell  you,  too.  Come,  take  a  walk." 

"  Can't.  I  must  stay  in  this  secluded  spot  be- 
cause I  want  to  smoke,  and  a  pipe  should  not  be 
seen  publicly  with  a  Roman  collar." 

Patrick  admitted  the  justice  of  this;  but,  on 
consideration,  he  outlined  a  route  by  which  all 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      117 

critical  observers  could  be  avoided.  And  certainly 
the  prospect  of  a  walk  through  the  balmy  air  was 
tempting  enough.  Having  warned  his  father's 
nurse  to  show  a  light  in  the  west  window  in  case 
he  should  be  needed,  Jack  consented  to  accompany 
his  friend. 

They  strolled  through  a  thicket  of  young  oaks, 
crossed  the  river  at  its  narrowest  part  by  means 
of  a  series  of  stepping-stones,  and  reached  a  slight 
elevation  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  imme- 
diately behind  Judge  Redwood's  house.  From 
this  point  the  view  of  the  river  and  the  town  was 
very  picturesque.  The  increasing  twilight  hid  all 
the  sordid  evidences  of  man's  daily  work  in  the 
factories.  The  chimneys  had  ceased  to  smoke. 
One  by  one  pale  lights  appeared  in  the  windows  of 
the  homes  on  the  river  bank,  and  were  reflected  in 
the  water.  Two  boys  sitting  on  the  wharf  began  to 
sing  in  high-pitched  voices,  and  when  they  ceased, 
all  sound  was  gone,  except  the  splash  of  the  water 
and  the  distant  croaking  of  the  frogs. 

Patrick  had  told  his  friend  of  his  coming  de- 
parture. Jack  had  seemed  concerned.  He  did  not 
say  much  until  they  reached  the  knoll;  then, 
stretching  his  length  along  the  slope  of  rock,  he 
took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  said  :  "  And  how 
about  your  place  at  the  factory  ?  " 

"  Oh !  they  know  that  I  intend  to  better  myself. 
I  spoke  about  this  some  time  ago  ;  they'll  have  no 


118      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

difficulty  in  finding  a  substitute.  Of  course  if  it's 
inconvenient  to  them  I'll  not  go." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  '  bettering  '  yourself?  " 

"  Getting  out  of  Redwood,"  answered  Des- 
mond, with  a  slight  laugh. 

Conlon  shook  his  head.  "  You  are  bright ;  you 
are  better  educated  than  most  of  the  young  men 
about  us  here  in  Redwood ;  why  don't  you  stay 
and  help  to  '  better '  them  ?  " 

"  Why  don't  you  ?  "  asked  Desmond,  surprised. 
Jack  Conlon  seldom  spoke  in  such  a  grave  tone. 

"  I  pray  to  God  that  the  Bishop  will  send  me 
here  when  I  shall  be  ordained,  "  he  said,  with  an 
intensity  that  astonished  Desmond.  "I  want  to 
be  of  use  to  my  own  people.  When  I  see  so  many 
of  our  young  people  losing  their  grip  on  all  that 
made  their  fathers  and  mothers  good,  and  fancy- 
ing themselves  so  much  better,  it  makes  me  long 
to  be  at  work.  But  there's  a  limit  to  what  a  priest 
can  do.  We  need  laymen  like  you  to  supplement 
us,  —  I  mean  laymen  such  as  you  might  be  if  you 
were  true  to  yourself." 

Desmond  was  too  much  interested  to  be  offended. 
"  Well,  go  on,"  he  said,  as  Jack  paused. 

"  Look  at  our  young  men  over  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river,  —  most  of  them  with  sound  bodies 
and  sound  minds,  born  of  a  pure  race.  What 
becomes  of  the  minds  and  the  bodies  ?  The  for- 
mer are  discontented,  wasted  in  trivial  or  vulgar 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      119 

thought  —  thought  is  too  high  a  name,  —  and  the 
latter,  five  times  out  of  ten,  diseased  by  drink. 
Or,  if  they  happen  to  be  like  you,  they  are  de- 
voured by  a  thirst  for  money  — " 

"  They  are  poor,"  interrupted  Desmond,  defi- 
antly. "  And  figs  do  not  grow  from  thistles." 

"  They  are  not  poor,"  said  Jack,  warmly.  "  No 
man  is  poor  in  this  country  who  can  own  his  own 
house  and  lot  in  a  few  years.  Poor !  There  is  no 
poverty,  to  speak  of,  in  American  country  towns. 
Go  to  New  York,  if  you  want  to  see  what  real 
poverty  is.  It  is  a  curse  there.  They  seem  to  be 
poor,  if  you  will,  in  all  that  makes  a  man  great.  — 
Oh  !  the  girls  are  all  right,"  continued  Jack,  as  if 
answering  a  question.  "  The  Sisters  give  them  a 
taste  for  better  things.  They  read;  they  even 
study ;  they  improve  themselves  in  every  possible 
way.  But  the  young  men  !  —  they  are  divided 
between  the  meanest  talk  of  the  most  squalid  local 
politics  and  playing  pool  for  drinks.  Heaven 
above  !  "  cried  Jack,  rising,  and  breaking  the  stem 
of  his  clay  pipe  in  his  violence,  "  what  kind  of  men 
are  we,  when  it  is  only  necessary  to  mention  an 
Irish  name  here,  in  order  to  provoke  the  question, 
«  Does  he  drink  ? '  " 

Jack  flung  his  arms  about  "  like  a  windmill  in 
a  cyclone,"  as  Patrick  suggested.  It  relieved  him, 
he  said. 

Sitting  there  in  the  semi-darkness,  Patrick  felt 


120      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

a  strange  sense  of  responsibility  for  the  friends 
and  companions  he  was  about  to  leave.  It  was 
new  and  uncomfortable.  He  tried  to  shake  it  off. 

"  What  would  you  do  to  amend  all  this,  Jack  ?  " 

"  Try  to  make  men  of  them,"  said  Jack, 
promptly.  "  Give  them  interests  and  tastes  above 
the  bar-room  and  the  street  corner  and  the  local 
news.  Everybody  notices  that  our  young  women 
are  superior  to  our  men.  It  isn't  money  does  that, 
is  it?  —  Well,  you  are  going  away ?  "  Jack's  voice 
trembled  a  little ;  and  it  was  all  the  more  impres- 
sive to  his  friend,  because  he  was  generally  rather 
humorous  and  satirical ;  and,  like  most  humorous 
people,  he  had  never  had  much  credit  for  deep 
feeling.  "  And  you'll  not  help  us  ;  and  no  doubt 
you'll  grow  rich,  and,  when  I'm  a  gray-headed  old 
priest,  come  back  here  and  build  an  asylum  for 
inebriates  whom  your  example  and  work  might 
have  saved.  Oh  !  "  said  Jack,  impatiently,  "  money 
will  not  do  everything.  It  will  not  give  us  another 
St.  Francis  of  Assisi  — 

At  this  moment  a  light  appeared  in  the  west 
window  of  the  house  on  the  opposite  bank. 

"  My  father  wants  me,"  cried  Jack,  hurriedly. 
"  Good-by,  old  boy !  Here,  take  this."  And  he 
threw  him  a  rosary.  "  You  will  need  it ;  and  if 
you  do  not,  give  it  to  somebody  that  does ;  I 
can't  wait."  And  away  he  strode,  leaving  Desmond 
alone  in  the  gathering  gloom. 


TTB  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      121 

The  hour  was  serene ;  there  was  no  outward 
discord,  and  Patrick's  thoughts  grouped  and  re- 
grouped themselves  like  figures  to  the  sound  of 
slow  music.  Strange  that  both  Eleanor  Redwood 
and  Jack  Conlon,  people  so  widely  different,  had 
rebuked  him  for  what  seemed  to  them  his  world- 
liness.  He  admired  Jack  Conlon  with  all  his 
heart;  and  as  he  thought  over  Eleanor's  words, 
something  like  a  similar  feeling  of  admiration 
crept  into  his  mind.  He  tried  to  drive  it  out. 
She  might  talk,  but  a  girl  like  her  must  naturally 
despise  a  poor  man.  He  would  succeed,  and  teach 
her  that  by  his  own  strength  he  could  be  more 
than  her  equal. 

If  Mrs.  Desmond  could  have  heard  his  thoughts, 
she  would  have  known  that  her  presentiment  in 
regard  to  Eleanor  Redwood  was  in  process  of  real- 
ization ;  for  the  mother,  like  Job's  war-horse,  scents 
danger  from  afar. 

As  the  twilight  melted  into  darkness,  Patrick's 
thoughts  kept  turning  around  the  centre  of  Jack 
Conlon's  words.  It  would  be  untrue  to  say  that 
he  was  not  flattered  by  the  implication  that  he 
might  be  looked  on  as  a  leader  of  his  own  people 
in  Redwood.  He  asked  himself  what  they  needed 
most;  drunkenness  was  the  one  vice  prominent 
among  them.  All  their  other  faults  turned  on  this 
one.  He  had  often  heard  his  friend,  the  pastor  of 
the  Holy  Innocents',  say  this.  At  the  same  time 


122      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Patrick  felt  that  he  would  have  knocked  down 
anybody  on  the  "  aristocratic  "  side  of  the  river 
who  would  repeat  it.  It  was  the  vice  that  kept 
his  people  down.  When  he  compared  them  with 
the  inhabitants  of  the  opposite  side  of  the  town, 
he  felt  that  they  were  at  a  disadvantage. 

The  men  on  his  side  had  health,  strength ;  they 
were  clever.  And  there  were  certainly  no  more 
brilliant  or  prettier  girls  anywhere.  They  were, 
perhaps,  a  little  narrow-minded,  because  Redwood 
was  so  small;  their  manners,  he  imagined,  were 
good  enough.  They  were  superior  to  the  young 
men,  for  they  had  been  controlled  by  the  Sisters  ; 
they  were  more  ambitious  than  the  young  men, 
and  they  had  more  self-respect.  He  wondered  what 
had  become  of  the  old  Irish  fondness  for  learning 
among  these  young  Irish-Americans.  Most  of 
their  fathers,  in  spite  of  poverty  at  home  and 
drudgery  in  this  country,  had  been  better  read  in 
the  solider  literature  than  these  young  men,  whose 
studies  were  confined  to  the  local  news  of  their 
town.  On  second  thoughts  he  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that,  while  the  natural  advantages  were 
on  the  side  of  his  own  people,  they  neither  knew 
how  nor  cared  to  make  the  best  of  them.  They 
lacked  self-respect ;  they  lacked  ambition ;  they, 
as  a  rule,  had  no  interests  beyond  questions  of 
everyday  work  and  local  politics. 

Patrick  said  to  himself  that  he  had  been  saved 


TEE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     123 

from  all  this  by  his  mother's  unconquerable  self- 
respect  and  ambition.  According  to  his  limited 
experience,  men  did  not  become  drunkards  because 
they  wanted  to  do  wrong,  or  even  —  except  in 
cases  where  a  diseased  appetite  already  existed  — 
from  a  passionate  thirst  for  drink  ;  but  because 
they  had  no  stimulus  to  improve  themselves,. 
Again,  in  the  old  part  of  Redwood,  public  opinion 
held  intemperance  in  abhorrence ;  while  in  his 
part  it  was  looked  on  as  an  amiable  weakness.  He 
was  striving  with  all  his  might  to  discover  the 
secret  of  all  that  he  hated  in  Redwood,  but  it 
never  occurred  to  him  to  take  Jack  Conlon's 
words  seriously  as  a  lesson  to  himself.  For  him- 
self, there  must  now  be  only  one  end  in  life  —  to 
make  money. 

He  heard  the  gate  in  the  wall  behind  him  open. 
He  rose  quickly.  Perhaps  this  part  of  the  river- 
bank  might  be  of  Judge  Redwood's  private 
grounds. 

As  he  moved,  a  figure,  coming  out  of  the  garden 
gate,  screamed  slightly,  drew  back,  and  then  came 
forward.  It  was  Belinda.  She  recognized  Des- 
mond, for  the  moon  and  the  electric  lights  were  in 
full  white  floods  along  the  bank.  Belinda  seemed 
very  serious.  She  advanced  toward  Patrick. 

"Mr.  Desmond,"  she  said,  "will  you  go  into 
the  house  for  a  minute  ?  I  must  go  for  Dr.  Talbot. 
She's  had  bad  news,  and  the  telephone  is  out  of 


124     THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

order,  so  that  I  can't  reach  him.  Go  in,  go  in !  " 
continued  Belinda,  hastily.  "  I'm  afraid  she'll  be 
ravin'  in  a  minute,  like  her  mother,  if  somebody 
doesn't  go  to  her."  And  Belinda  hurried  off, 
wishing  that  she  had  met  Mr.  Stokes  instead  of 
Patrick  Desmond. 

.  He  entered  the  gate,  walked  up  the  path,  bor- 
dered by  box  and  budding  privet.  Several  broad 
steps  led  up  to  the  back  porch.  There,  on  the 
rustic  bench,  sat  Eleanor  Redwood,  pale  but  tear- 
less. Her  hands  were  clasped.  Desmond  knew 
nothing  of  the  anxiety  which  was  preying  on  her 
heart,  but  she  seemed  to  him  very  pathetic  in  her 
loneliness.  All  the  unconscious  regality  of  her  air 
and  manner  was  gone.  The  moonlight  gave  her 
face  a  softness  and  gentleness  that  it  did  not 
always  possess.  At  that  moment  he  forgot  all  his 
prejudices  against  her. 

She  did  not  notice  his  presence  until  he  stood 
near  her ;  and  then  she  said,  without  turning  her 
head :  "  Dr.  Talbot ! " 

"  Not  Dr.  Talbot,"  he  answered,  greatly  embar- 
rassed ;  "  but  — " 

"  O  !  Mr  Desmond,"  she  exclaimed,  rising. 

"  Can  I  be  of  use  ?" 

"  Thank  you.     You  are  very  kind,"  she  said  in 
a  low  voice.  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  My  father  — 
and  her  voice  was  stifled  by  tears  — "  has  had  a  fit 
of  apoplexy.     They  will  bring  him  home  to-night. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      125 

Oh !  why  has  God  been  so  hard  to  him  ?  He  did 
not  deserve  this.  And  I  —  I  do  not  know  where 
to  turn.  God  seems  so  far  away.  Mr.  Desmond, 
you  are  a  Catholic  ;  you  can  perhaps  bring  Him 
nearer  —  oh  I  I  am  so  utterly  wretched." 

Desmond  was  silent.  How  could  he  answer 
her  ?  She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  To  him 
she  was  no  longer  Eleanor  Redwood,  the  stately 
woman ;  but  Eleanor  Redwood,  a  helpless  girl, 
looking  to  him  for  help.  And  from  that  instant 
she  was  photographed,  as  it  were,  in  his  heart. 
She  might  again  taunt  him ;  again  she  might 
wound  his  vanity ;  but  she  would  always  be  there 
now  in  her  gentlest  beauty,  in  her  suffering, 
worthy  of  love  and  pity. 

Mrs.  Desmond's  presentiment  had  not  been  an 
hallucination. 

"  Oh,  say  something,"  cried  Eleanor,  "  that  will 
bring  God  nearer !  My  father  may  die, — he  may 
be  dead ! " 

He  approached  her  and  put  Jack  Conlon's  rosary 
into  her  hand.  The  silver  crucifix  stood  out  clear 
in  the  white  light.  There  seemed  to  be  a  sym- 
pathy of  expression  between  it  and  the  sorrow  in 
Eleanor's  face. 

Desmond  heard  voices  approaching.  Belinda 
and  Dr.  Talbot  were  coming.  The  young  man 
turned  down  the  path,  leaving  the  rosary  in 
Eleanor's  hand. 


126      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 


X. 


"  Love  and  Sorrow  are  twins." 

— Henri  Bayle. 

DR.  TALBOT  and  Belinda  scarcely  noticed  Pat- 
rick as  he  passed  them.  He  paused  after  they  had 
gone,  wondering  at  the  impulse  which  had  induced 
him  to  steal  away  so  suddenly.  He  was  con- 
stantly regretting  his  impulses,  and  just  as  con- 
stantly acting  on  them  again.  He  asked  himself 
whether  it  would  not  be  well  to  go  back.  But 
what  could  he  do  ?  A  stranger,  as  he  was,  would 
certainly  be  in  the  way.  And  yet  he  stood  for 
half  an  hour  by  the  river's  bank,  debating  with 
himself  whether  he  should  retu  rn  or  not.  He  saw 
a  cab,  with  lamps  lighted,  pass  along  the  front 
street,  slowly,  carefully  driven.  He  heard  it  stop. 
Then  he  went  away,  forgetting  everything  but 
sympathy  for  Eleanor  Redwood. 

His  mother  was  waiting  for  him.  His  trunk 
was  ready.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day, 
providing  no  opposition  was  made  at  the  factory, 
he  would  speed  away  from  Redwood.  Mrs.  Des- 
mond, now  that  the  excitement  of  the  packing  was 
over,  began  to  give  way  to  the  sentiment  of  the 
occasion.  It  was  an  epoch  for  her.  The  ship  in 
which  were  all  her  earthly  hopes  was  about  to  put 
out  to  sea.  It  had  grown  under  her  hand ;  she 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      127 

had  fashioned  it  tenderly ;  her  life  had  gone  into 
it.  Hopes  and  fears  —  fears  black  as  night  — 
crossed  Mrs.  Desmond's  heart  as  she  waited.  And 
when  Patrick  entered,  she  was  ready  to  weep  over 
him,  to  beg  him  not  to  leave  her,  or  to  take  her 
with  him,  to  make  him  understand  all  that  this 
parting  meant  to  her.  All  thought  of  Eleanor 
Redwood  had  left  her  mind  for  the  time  being; 
her  son  was  about  to  go  forth  into  battle,  and  the 
greater  fear  as  to  what  might  be  the  result  of  that 
battle  had  swallowed  up  all  minor  fears. 

When  the  young  man  opened  the  door,  Mrs. 
Desmond  was  sitting,  trembling  and  pale,  with  her 
rosary  in  her  hand.  Patrick  was  preoccupied. 

"  Well,  mother,"  he  said,  with  his  usual  smile. 
He  sat  down  beside  the  marble-topped  table  and 
drew  the  lamp  toward  him.  She  looked  at  his 
face,  and  read  with  lightning-like  rapidity  that  his 
thoughts  were  not  with  her.  It  was  a  painful  dis- 
covery ;  her  heart  sank ;  life,  she  thought,  is  indeed 
hard  for  a  mother. 

"  Miss  Redwood  is  in  great  trouble,"  he  re- 
marked, carelessly  ;  "  and  I  never  wished  more  to 
help  anybody  in  my  life." 

Mrs.  Desmond  became  stony  at  once.  What 
trouble  could  this  young  thing  have  in  comparison 
with  hers  ? 

"  The  Judge  has  been  stricken  with  apoplexy, 
nd  they  have  just  brought  him  home." 


128     THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  How  is  he  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Desmond,  with  a 
show  of  interest. 

Patrick  looked  embarrassed.  "I  really  don't 
know,  —  I  didn't  wait  to  ask.  I  was  sitting  with 
Jack  Conlon  on  the  knoll  behind  Judge  Redwood's 
house  for  a  while,  and  Belinda  came  out  to  tell 
me.  I  ought  to  have  asked  about  the  Judge.  The 
truth  is,  Miss  Redwood  looked  so  unhappy  that  I 
didn't  think  of  anything  else." 

Mrs.  Desmond  understood  it  all.  Her  sorrow, 
her  fears  were  nothing  in  comparison  to  the  afflic- 
tions of  Eleanor  Redwood. 

"  I  shall  go  over  to  ask  before  I  go  to-morrow. 
It  is  too  bad  to  think  of  her  being  entirely  alone, 
and  in  such  sad  circumstances." 

"  I  shall  be  alone  after  to-morrow,"  Mrs.  Des- 
mond said,  with  a  touch  of  bitterness  in  her  tone. 

Patrick  looked  up.  The  light  from  the  lamp 
was  full  on  his  mother's  face.  .He  saw  a  tear  on 
her  cheek. 

"  Why —  what's  the  matter,  mother?  I  thought 
you  wanted  me  to  go." 

The  genuine  surprise  in  his  tone  made  her 
realize  how  far  they  were  apart  at  that  moment. 
She  wiped  away  the  tears.  He  was  a  dutiful  son, 
a  kind  son,  —  the  kindest  son  in  the  world ;  but 
he  could  never  understand.  If  she  was  jealous,  it 
was  because  she  loved  him ;  if  she  was  in  sorrow, 
it  was  because  she  loved  him ;  nothing  could  take 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      129 

away  from  her  the  joy  of  having  brought  such  a 
man-child  into  the  world.  But  from  the  begin- 
ning —  from  the  hour  he  had  seen  the  light  — 
sorrow  and  pain  had  been  the  shadows  of  her  love 
and  joy.  He  could  not  understand, —  he  could 
never  understand.  After  all,  there  was  One  who 
could  understand ;  and  her  fingers  clasped  more 
closely  the  beads  of  her  rosary.  "There  is  a 
Mother  who  has  especial  pity  for  all  mothers," 
she  thought. 

"Yes  —  yes,  you  had  better  go,"  she  said, 
hastily.  "  Oh,  yes,  but  it  is  hard." 

"  It  will  be  only  a  little  while,  mother,"  he  said, 
cheerfully.  "  I  shall  be  back.  And  —  who  knows  ? 
—  in  less  than  a  year  you  may  be  in  New  York 
yourself,  in  a  cosy  nest.  Though  I  confess, 
mother,  that  Redwood  begins  to  look  so  lovely 
just  now  that  I  think  I  should  like  to  stay  a  little 
longer." 

The  eager  manner  of  his  mother,  as  she  an- 
swered him  quickly,  surprised  him. 

"  Sure  I  don't  ask  you  to  stay.  I  wouldn't  have 
you  stay  for  anything  in  the  world." 

"  Then  what  do  you  want  me  to  do,  mother  ?  " 
asked  Patrick,  puzzled.  "  I  propose  to  go,  and 
you  say,  Stay  ;  I  propose  to  stay  — " 

"  I  know  why  you  want  to  stay,  Patrick.  You're 
thinking  of  Eleanor  Redwood." 

Mrs.  Desmond  regretted  this  the  moment  she 
had  spoken ;  her  son's  face  turned  crimson. 


130      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  Patrick,"  his  mother  said,  pleadingly,  "  don't 
think  of  her.  I  suppose  the  time  will  come  when 
you'll  think  of  marriage,  and  then  I'll  be  willing 
to  sit  alone  here,  with  a  quiet  heart,  and  pray  for 
your  happiness.  But  I  couldn't  think  of  you  as 
being  happy  with  her.  She  is  no  fit  mate  for  you ; 
she  has  been  used  to  a  different  kind  of  people 
since  her  father  has  become  what  he  is.  She's 
above  us,  dear,  and  her  ways  are  not  ours.  I'm 
sure  you're  good  enough  for  a  princess,  but  her 
people  won't  think  so,  and  — " 

The  color  had  left  Desmond's  cheeks,  and 
while  his  mother  was  speaking  a  frown  became 
more  and  more  indented  on  his  forehead.  Mrs. 
Desmond  stopped ;  she  saw  that  she  had  made  a 
mistake. 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  marriage  at  ail,  mother," 
he  said ;  "  but  I  have  thought  that  if  I  ever  married 
any  girl  it  should  be  Eleanor  Redwood." 

His  mother  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  rocked  to  and  fro. 

"  I  am  tired  of  hearing  of  the  superiority  of  the 
people  on  the  Hill, —  tired  and  sick  of  it !  "  lie 
continued,  vehemently.  "  I  have  always  been  told 
that  I,  having  Irish  blood  in  my  veins,  came  of  a 
race  of  saints  and  heroes.  Why  are  we  here, 
mother  ?  Why  were  you  and  my  father  obliged 
to  come  here  ?  Because  your  father  and  mother 
and  grandfather  and  grandmother  loved  the  Cross 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      131 

of  Christ  above  all,  and  their  country  next.  Am 
I  sprung  from  such  blood  —  the  blood  of  men  and 
women  who  preferred  poverty  to  apostasy, —  in- 
ferior to  these  people  on  the  Hill  ?  It  can't  be ; 
if  it  is,  then  all  the  pride  of  birth  and  respect  for 
the  past  you  have  instilled  into  me  are  worse 
than  a  lie.  How  could  I  feel  in  me  the  love  of 
all  that  is  true  and  beautiful,  if  you  were  not  the 
truest  of  gentlewomen,  mother?  As  your  son,  if 
for  no  other  reason,  I  am  Eleanor  Redwood's  equal, 
mother." 

Mrs.  Desmond's  heart  glowed  with  pleasure  and 
contracted  with  pain.  The  praise  of  herself,  her 
boy's  pride,  delighted  her ;  but  between  the  words 
of  his  speech  she  read  the  truth,  that  she  had  no 
longer  the  first  place  in  his  heart. 

"No,"  he  said,  firmly,  "do  not  say  again  that  I 
am  not  as  well-born  as  any  of  her  friends.  And, 
when  the  time  comes,  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  claim 
her  as  my  wife  —  if  I  ever  become  less  detestably 
poor.  Oh !  how  I  hate  poverty.  To  be  an 
American  and  to  be  poor  is  to  be  only  half  a 
man." 

"You  must  not  think  of  Eleanor  Redwood, 
Patrick, —  promise  me  that  you  will  not,"  his 
mother  said,  rising  and  taking  his  hand. 

He  did  not  answer  at  once.  "  How  can  you 
ask  such  a  thing,  mother?  In  fact,"  he  added, 
"  I  have  not  any  reason  to  believe  that  she  would 
think  of  me  —  in  that  way." 


132     THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"Her  mother  was  insane,  Patrick;  and  just 
before  she  was  born,  she  was  worse  than  usual. 
She  was  as  proud  as  Lucifer  of  being  a  Waldron  ; 
and  when  Eleanor  came,  she  was  terribly  disap- 
pointed. She  wanted  Eleanor  to  be  a  boy.  How 
she  envied  me  —  for  you  were  born  about  the 
same  time.  After  a  while  it  became  her  settled 
notion  that  her  husband  —  she  got  it  into  her  head 
that  he  hated  the  Waldrons  —  had  deprived  her 
of  her  own  child  and  substituted  Eleanor  in  its 
place.  She  imagined  —  poor  woman  !  —  that  you 
were  her  son,  and  that  the  Judge  had  the  power 
to  force  me  to  keep  her  child." 

"  Poor  woman  !  "  Desmond  exclaimed.  "  And 
was  she  always  mad  ?  " 

"  Only  at  times." 

"  How  Eleanor  must  have  suffered." 

"  She  never  knew  it ;  Mrs.  Redwood  was  sane 
enough  for  many  years  after  her  birth.  But  the 
Waldrons  were  always  more  or  less  queer.  The 
letter  Eleanor  brought  me  the  other  day  was 
written  to  me  in  one  of  her  mother's  crazy  moods. 
If  you  have  never  spoken  to  Eleanor  Redwood  in 
any  way  that  would  raise  her  hopes,  don't  do  it ; 
she  will  go  mad  some  day." 

"I  would  take  the  risk,"  answered  her  son, 
firmly.  "  From  the  moment  I  saw  her,  something 
told  me  that  she  should  be  my  wife  —  if  I  should 
ever  marry." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      133 

Mrs.  Desmond  sunk  to  her  knees  beside  him; 
he  felt  her  tears  on  his  hand.  It  was  a  bitter 
moment  for  her. 

"  But  it's  all  nonsense  to  talk  of  it, —  all  non- 
sense," he  said,  smoothing  her  hair.  "  Come, 
dear,"  he  added,  lifting  her  lightly  to  the  sofa, 
"let  us  be  cheerful." 

"  O,  Patrick !  "  she  sobbed,  "  you  don't  know 
what  you  are  saying.  You  will  break  my  heart  if 
you  marry  her  —  and  she  a  Protestant." 

"  It  has  been  done  before,"  said  Patiick ;  "  and 
in  America  we're  getting  over  such  prejudices." 

"  But  a  moment  ago  you  said  that  it   was  all 
nonsense  to  talk  of  your  marrying  her  at  all." 
"  So  it  is,"  returned  Patrick,  in  a  low  voice. 
Mrs.  Desmond  looked  anxiously  into  his  face. 
"  Ah,"  she  said  solemnly,  "  your  face  denies  your 
words.     If  I  were  on  my  dying  bed  I  could  only 
say  what  I  say  now.     Listen  to  your  old  mother's 
words,  boy,  before  it  is  too   late.     A   few  steps 
more  and  it  will  be  too  late,  and  you  will  have 
marred  her  life  and  yours." 

Mrs.  Desmond  stood  erect,  her  little  figure 
taking  a  new  dignity,  and  her  face  becoming  very 
pale  and  earnest.  Her  speech,  in  ordinary  con- 
versation somewhat  slow  and  hesitating,  became 
easy  and  flowing.  She  spoke  from  her  heart,  and 
for  the  time  she  entirely  dominated  her  son. 

"  You  don't  know  what  marriage  is,"  she  con- 


134      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

tinued,  "  where  there  is  a  division  between  those 
who  are  married.  It  is  not  easy ;  it  means  self- 
sacrifice  at  the  best.  But  if  in  the  greatest  of  all 
things  there  is  a  difference,  then  marriage  is  bitter 
—  death  is  better.  I  have  seen  it  many  times  in 
Redwood.  Think  what  your  religion  is  to  you. 
I  hope  to  God  that  you  would  die  for  it,  and  yet 
you  would  think  of  making  yourself  one  with  a 
woman  who,  no  matter  how  good  she  may  be, 
must  look  on  your  Church  and  its  practices  as 
foolish ;  who  may  despise  them  if  she  does  not 
hate  them." 

"  Eleanor  Redwood  —  "  began  the  young  man, 
in  protest. 

"  She  is  divided  from  you  by  a  great  gulf.  If 
she  is  sincere  in  her  own  belief  the  trouble  will 
be  all  the  greater.  If  she  is  not  sincere  in  her 
own  belief,  how  can  she  look  on  your  sincerity 
with  any  sympathy  ?  If  you  had  given  your  word 
to  her,  I  should  say  nothing.  But  it  is  not  too 
late.  Promise  me,  Patrick,  that  you  will  not 
think  of  her—" 

"  Why  should  I  make  such  a  foolish  promise, 
mother?"  interrupted  Patrick,  with  a  show  of 
irritation.  "  I  am  going  away,  she  will  remain 
here.  I  shall  probably  never  see  her  again.  I'm 
tired  of  all  this  bigotry  about  mixed  marriages. 
I've  heard  of  it  until  I  am  sick." 

"  I   pray  to  God   that   you  may  never  regret 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      135 

those  words.  I  tell  you,  Patrick,  that  Judge 
Redwood  would  rather  see  Eleanor  dead  than 
married  to  you,"  Mrs.  Desmond  said,  vehemently. 

"  He  is  a  bigot,  —  a  would-be  aristocrat !  "  ex- 
claimed her  son,  coloring  with  anger.  "  I  will 
teach  him  that  I  am  as  good  as  he  is." 

"  No,  don't  say  that,"  said  Mrs.  Desmond. 
"  The  Judge  is  not  what  you  think.  But  he 
learned  a  lesson  which  I  hope  you  may  never 
learn.  Clarissa  Waldron  became  a  Catholic  in 
early  life,  —  this  was  the  secret  bond  that  kept 
us  together  for  years.  But  the  Judge  thought 
her  conversion  a  disadvantage  —  " 

"Politically?"  asked  Patrick,  with  more  in- 
terest than  he  cared  to  show. 

"  He  laughed  and  joked  and  jeered  and  sneered. 
He  wouldn't  do  it  now,  if  he  had  his  life  to  go 
over  again.  He  couldn't  understand  why  one 
church  wasn't  as  good  as  another.  At  election 
times,  people  threw  his  wife's  religion  into  his 
face.  It  made  trouble  between  the  two,  until 
finally  she  gave  it  up,  just  after  Eleanor  was  born. 
And  she  was  never  a  happy  woman  afterward 
nor  he  a  happy  man.  If  she  had  held  out,  he'd 
have  come  to  her  way  of  thinking,  perhaps ;  but 
it  would  only  have  been  after  a  lifetime  of  con- 
tention. Judge  Redwood  has  had  his  own  expe- 
rience of  what  a  mixed  marriage  means.  I'm  sure 
he'd  give  the  world  to  have  to  live  his  life  over 


136      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

again.  My  boy,"  Mrs.  Desmond  went  on,  pas- 
sionately, "  you  don't  know  what  life  is.  Suppose 
you  should  lose  your  Faith  "  —  and  she  shuddered. 
"  Suppose,  for  the  sake  of  peace,  you  should  do 
as  Clarissa  Waldron  did !  I  should  rather  see 
you  dead  here  now !  " 

Patrick,  though  he  was  much  moved,  tried  to 
smile.  "  It  would  be  impossible,"  he  said. 

"  Clarissa  Waldrou  thought  so,  too.  You  don't 
know  what  power  a  wife  has  over  a  husband.  Oh ! 
my  boy." 

She  said  no  more ;  her  voice  broke,  and  Patrick 
raised  her  up  from  the  floor  —  for  she  had  fallen 
on  her  knees,  —  kissed  her  forehead,  and  said 
with  a  sigh :  "I  promise,  mother,  never  to  rush 
into  the  danger  you  speak  of." 

There  was  silence  after  this,  until  they  said 
good-night. 

Over  at  the  Redwood  house,  Eleanor  stood 
beside  her  father's  bedside.  The  Judge  had  not 
spoken  since  he  had  been  brought  home  from  the 
railway  station.  Eleanor  and  Dr.  Talbot  and 
Belinda  kept  watch.  The  stertorous  breathing 
of  the  man  apparently  so  vigorous  was  appalling 
to  his  daughter ;  it  seemed  to  crush  through  her 
nerves  and  brain  and  to  wound  her  very  heart. 
She  was  inconsolable. 

Dr.   Talbot  could   give  her  little    hope.     The 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      137 

physician  who  had  accompanied  the  Judge  from 
Eaglescliff  could  only  say  that  he  had  prescribed 
for  him  early  in  the  day,  and  that  he  complained 
of  overwork.  On  his  way  to  the  Eaglescliff  sta- 
tion he  had  fallen  suddenly. 

About  midnight  he  opened  his  eyes.  Eleanor 
bent  over  him,  and  the  crucifix  of  the  rosary  she 
still  held  in  her  hands  touched  his  face.  With 
an  effort  he  grasped  it. 

"  Clarissa,"  he  murmured,  looking  at  Eleanor, 
"  forgive  me.  I  did  not  know  your  belief  meant 
so  much.  Let  us  begin  over  again." 

Before  Eleanor  could  speak,  he  became  insen- 
sible again,  with  the  crucifix  tight  in  his  grasp. 


138      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND 

XL 

"  Show  me  the  Father's  face,  O  Lord!  "  —  Faber. 

ELEANOK,  in  charge  of  Belinda,  was  hurried  to 
her  room.  She  never  thought  of  disobeying  Dr. 
Talbot.  The  Judge  had  brought  her  up  in  the 
salutary  doctrine  that  a  physician  was  to  be  obeyed 
with  military  precision.  He  assured  the  young 
girl  that  her  father  was  not  dying,  and  that  was 
enough. 

It  was  after  midnight.  The  soft  promise  of  the 
evening  had  not  been  kept.  A  storm  of  frosty 
rain  was  pelting  against  the  north  side  of  the 
house,  much  to  Belinda's  disgust.  She  was  di- 
vided between  her  fear  for  the  crops  —  for  Belinda 
always  read  the  agricultural  column  in  the  Red- 
wood Herald,  —  and  a  vague  uneasiness  lest  her 
conduct  in  the  matter  of  the  letter  might  have 
had  something  to  do  with  the  present  catastrophe. 
Belinda  was  high  tempered  and  impulsive,  and 
she  had  a  conscience. 

"  I  never  felt  so  much  in  need  of  spiritooal 
consolation,"  she  said,  having  kindly  told  Eleanor 
that  she  guessed  the  doctor  would  have  to  draw 
a  good  deal  of  blood  before  the  Judge  "  came  to." 
Eleanor,  too,  felt  much  in  need  of  consolation; 
but  Belinda  was  not  given  to  excessive  sympathy. 
Death  and  sickness  made  more  or  less  "  work  "  for 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      139 

her ;  she  had  become  so  familiar  with  them  that 
they  had  become  commonplace. 

"  I  read  a  good  deal  in  the  papers  about  Colum- 
bus, and  I  haven't  much  against  him,  except  I 
think  he  might  have  been  more  enlightened  in 
religious  matters.  But  why  did  he  go  and  dis- 
cover a  climate  like  this  ?  He  might  have  done 
better.  Just  think  of  the  thousands  of  apple 
blossoms  that  hail  is  nipping  off.  It  makes  a  body 
sick." 

Eleanor  felt  that  if  Belinda  went  on  with  her 
prattle  she  must  go  mad.  And  yet  she  did  not 
dare  to  "  dismiss  "  her.  Belinda  went  and  came 
as  she  listed.  She,  however,  did  not  expect  a 
reply  to  her  last  remark,  which  was  only  a  gro- 
tesque expression  of  her  discontent  with  herself. 

"Dr.  Talbot's  all  for  bleeding.  He's  of  the 
old  school.  And  I  must  say  that  I'm  in  favor  of 
bleeding  myself.  I  have  no  patience  with  a  doctor 
that  doesn't  bleed.  Simeon  Stokes,  Mr.  Stokes' 
father,  would  never  have  been  the  man  he  was  if 
he  hadn't  been  bled  repeatedly  when  he  was 
young.  Leeches  are  good  enough  in  their  way, 
but  I  don't  hold  much  to  leeches  —  " 

"  Belinda,"  interrupted  Eleanor,  faintly,  "  I 
fancy  Dr.  Talbot  may  need  you.  I'll  rest  in  the 
easy-chair  here  until  he  asks  for  me." 

"  He'll  not  ask  for  you,"  said  Belinda,  confi- 
dently. "You  mean  well,  but  you  couldn't 


140      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

stand  the  sight  of  bleeding.  I  was  brought  up 
different." 

Belinda  turned  down  the  night-lamp  and  went 
out.  Eleanor  locked  the  door.  She  was  relieved. 
At  least  her  father  would  not  die.  Her  heart 
went  up  in  a  glad  burst  of  thankfulness.  Let  him 
live,  she  cried  out  in  her  heart,  and  she  would 
endure  anything..  All  misfortunes  seemed  small 
to  her  now.  When  he  should  recover  sufficiently, 
she  would  ask  him  the  meaning  of  the  letter  she 
had  shown  to  Mrs.  Desmond ;  she  felt  sure  that 
he  could  clear  it  up.  She  would  never  doubt  that 
dear,  dear  father  again;  it  gave  her  a  strange, 
inexplicable  pleasure  to  remember  that  he  had 
touched  the  crucifix  so  tenderly. 

Now  if  he  should  die  she  would  not  feel  so 
wretched  about  it.  He  had  never  scoffed  at  re- 
ligion; he  had  laughed  at  a  great  many  things 
which  he  called  Calvinistic,  but  he  had  never 
mocked  at  Christianity.  Eleanor  had  never  been 
anxious  about  her  father's  spiritual  welfare,  but  she 
had  been  anxious  about  his  health ;  she  had  been 
anxious  that  he  should  not  worry  himself  about 
his  "  investments  "  ;  she  had  wished  that  he  would 
go  oftener  to  church  with  her,  because  it  "  looked 
so  queer  "  for  him  to  stay  at  home ;  and  she  had 
prayed  that  he  might  restore  to  Patrick  Desmond 
anything  that  might  be  his.  She  had  not  thought 
seriously  of  his  possible  death  ;  it  seemed  to  her 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      141 

that  all  her  trials  were  over  when  her  mother  had 
died.  It  was  only  a  few  days  before  her  mother's 
death  that  the  words  had  been  spoken  which  had 
filled  her  mind  with  those  questions  concerning 
her  father,  —  questions  which  arose  all  the  more 
strongly  in  her  mind  because  the  Judge  seemed 
unconscious  of  them.  Her  mother  had  said  to 
her  one  day,  after  a  long  silence  : 

"  I  have  sacrificed  my  conscience  to  your  father, 
Nora.  When  the  time  comes,  do  you  prefer  your 
conscience  to  everything  else  in  the  world.  A 
great  wrong  has  been  done,  —  a  great  wrong." 

And  then  Eleanor  had  caught  her  mother  in 
her  arms  and  said  eagerly : 

"  Let  the  wrong  be  repaired,  mother." 

"  It  is  too  late."  And  she  had  added,  wearily  : 
"  Too  late  — too  late."  Then  a  sudden  flush  had 
crossed  her  face,  as  it  often  did  during  her  sick- 
ness, and  she  had  whispered  in  Eleanor's  ear: 
"  See  that  Patrick  Desmond  has  his  rights  :  your 
father  must  give  back  what  he  has  taken." 

That  was  all.  An  interruption  had  occurred ; 
and  Mrs.  Redwood  sank  rapidly  after  that.  It 
had  been  enough.  Like  the  three  pomegranate 
seeds  which,  eaten  by  Proserpine,  made  all  the 
difference  to  her  between  darkness  and  light, 
those  few  words  had  made  Eleanor's  life  anxious 
when  it  might  have  been  serene.  She  went  over 
all  this  now,  —  or,  rather,  it  passed  through  her 


142      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

mind ;  and  she  said  to  herself  that  there  must  be 
some  mistake.  At  any  rate,  all  her  doubts,  once 
so  important  to  her,  seemed  mere  trifles  in  the 
face  of  this  awfully  real  calamity.  After  all,  her 
father  would  not  die,  —  the  doctor  had  said  it. 

Yet  the  doctor  might  be  wrong;  and  if  he 
were  !  —  Eleanor  shuddered.  Death  took  a  new 
aspect.  Her  mother  had  passed  away  by  degrees ; 
there  had  been  mounds  of  flowers,  singing  by  a 
quartette,  a  few  eloquent  words,  and  a  still  more 
eloquent  prayer.  Death  had  been  hard  and  sad 
enough,  but  Eleanor  had  endured  it.  Now  she 
felt  that  she  could  not  endure  it  again.  She 
stretched  out  her  hands  in  the  gloom ;  the  words 
from  "  In  Memoriam  "  came  to  her ;  she  was  an 
infant  crying  in  the  night, 

"  And  with  no  language  but  a  cry." 

What  would  become  of  her  father  if  he  were 
to  pass  away  ?  Where  would  he  go  ?  Should  she 
ever  meet  him  again  ?  He  was  good,  —  he  had 
been  the  best  father  in  the  world  to  her.  But  he 
did  not  believe  —  or,  at  least,  he  said  he  "  did  not 
know.'  Still,  he  had  almost  kissed  the  crucifix. 
Had  he  begun  to  believe?  He  was  not  good 
enough  for  heaven.  She  knew  that  Mr.  Stokes,  who 
was  fresh  from  his  seminary,  would  say  that  the 
mere  tenderness  to  a  crucifix  would  not  admit  a 
man  to  heaven  ;  and  Mr.  Stokes  would  say,  too,  that 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      143 

there  was  only  one  other  place.  Oh  I  if  her  father 
should  die  that  night,  —  there  must  be  some  way 
out.  If  she  had  only  asked  Patrick  Desmond ; 
he  might  know.  In  the  dull  glow  of  the  lamp 
shone  the  face  of  the  Madonna.  Somehow  it 
seemed  to  take  the  young  girl  nearer  to  God. 
After  all,  He  must  be  a  friend,  —  He  who  had 
come  down  to  earth  and  been  cradled  by  such  a 
Mother.  A  slight  hope  —  unreasonable,  some 
people  would  have  called  it  —  kindled  in  her  heart. 
After  a  time  her  tired  mind  lost  itself  in  sleep ; 
and  through  her  dreams,  like  a  recurrent  theme 
in  a  symphony,  shone  the  face  of  the  Madonna. 

On  the  next  day  Judge  Redwood  was  better. 
Dr.  Talbot's  assistant  and  a  nurse  were  with  him. 
Dr.  Talbot  said  that  he  had  evidently  had  some 
great  shock ;  he  was  not  the  sort  of  man  to  go  to 
pieces  unless  there  was  some  mental  trouble.  He 
recommended  quiet. 

The  doctor  had  said  that  Eleanor  must  stay 
away  from  her  father!  She  was  sitting  in  her 
room,  feeling  very  thankful  that  there  was  a  pros- 
pect of  her  father's  recovery,  when  she  heard 
Desmond's  voice  at  the  door.  Her  heart  bounded. 
If  she  could  only  see  him  for  a  moment.  Belinda 
answered  his  inquiry,  and  he  was  gone. 

"  Young  Desmond  was  here,"  Belinda  said, 
"  asking  about  your  pa.  He  seemed  real  anxious. 
I  gave  him  the  string  of  beads  with  the  cross  to 


144      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

it.  I  didn't  like  the  looks  of  that  thing  with 
strangers  comin'  in  and  out  —  " 

"  You  had  no  right,  Belinda  —  "  began  Eleanor. 

"  You  needn't  be  so  sharp  about  it,"  answered 
Belinda,  in  an  injured  tone.  "  I  said  I  guess  you 
hadn't  much  need  for  them,  and  he  said  he  meant 
you  to  keep  'em ;  so  I  took  'em  back,  and  put  'em 
under  Baxter's  *  Saint's  Rest,'  in  the  parlor.  He 
is  going  to  New  York  this  evening." 

"  To  New  York  ! "  exclaimed  Eleanor. 

"  Why  not  ?  I  guess  he  ain't  tied  to  Redwood," 
returned  Belinda. 

Why  not,  indeed  ?  What  right  had  Eleanor  to 
feel  disappointed?  Nevertheless  it  was  with  a 
sense  of  bitter  disappointment  that  she  turned  her 
face  toward  the  window  to  hide  it  from  Belinda. 

"  Will  he  stay  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  suppose  he 
is  going  to  visit  friends." 

"  He's  going  for  good,"  said  Belinda,  watching 
the  young  girl  with  interest.  "  I  don't  suppose 
his  friends  live  in  Fifth  Avenue  —  though  they 
may,"  she  added,  with  a  sniff.  "  The  Irish  bob 
up  everywhere.  You  can  never  tell." 

After  a  time  Eleanor  became  ashamed  of  the 
interest  she  could  not  help  manifesting  in  Des- 
mond. She  tried  to  laugh  at  herself.  A  month 
ago  she  almost  despised  his  very  name,  and  never 
heard  it  without  irritation.  She  recalled  her  con- 
versation about  him  over  the  tea  table.  How  all 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        145 

the  affectations  of  "  society "  fell  away  before 
realities.  She  was  no  longer  thoughtlessly  trying 
to  escape  from  the  monotonous  life  around  her, 
by  grasping  at  everything  that  could  bring  her 
nearer  to  a  more  sophisticated  civilization.  She 
had  a  glimpse  into  the  reality  of  life ;  she  shud- 
dered, as  if  a  presentiment  had  come  to  her.  Des- 
mond did  not  seem  to  her  to  be  the  ideal  man ;  but 
he  believed  firmly,  and  in  spiritual  things  he  was 
stronger  than  she  was.  In  this  her  father,  her 
ideal  man,  failed.  What,  after  all,  was  life  but  a 
burden  that  must  be  carried  ?  If  she  could  only 
have  known  Desmond  a  little  longer  he  might 
have  helped  her.  And  she  had  been  unkind  to 
him. 

Belinda  fluttered  in  at  this  moment,  and  an- 
nounced Mr.  Stokes. 

"  He  doesn't  look  well,  poor  dear  young  man. 
I  was  that  flustered  I  went  to  the  door  with  my 
kitchen  apron  on.  Do  keep  him  talkin'  till  I 
finish  a  batch  of  crullers,  and  I'll  bring  a  nice 
jaess  into  the  parlor." 

And  Belinda  hurried  away. 

If  Eleanor  had  been  a  belle  of  society  —  one  of 
those  Psyches  of  modern  times  who  are  analytical 
in  the  study  of  mankind,  —  one  would  easily  con- 
clude that  she  had  found  a  new  specimen.  She 
was  plainly  anxious  to  meet  Mr.  Stokes,  —  so 
anxious  that  she  did  not  even  stop  to  adjust  the 


146      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

bow  of  ribbon  at  her  throat;  but  Eleanor  had 
none  of  the  qualities  of  the  young  women  of 
society. 

Mr.  Stokes,  who  had  called  in  form,  sat  on  the 
edge  of  a  chair,  with  his  hat  in  one  hand  and  his 
card  in  the  other.  He  had  carefully  written 
"  Ripley  J.  Stokes "  on  a  large  card ;  but  as 
Belinda  had  ignored  it,  he  now  held  it  rather 
awkwardly  in  his  hand.  As  Eleanor  entered,  he 
was  inspired  to  drop  it  on  the  floor  and  to  press 
it  under  his  boot-heel.  This  gave  him  great  relief. 

He  had  read  in  a  book  of  etiquette  —  he  and 
Patrick  Desmond  had  often  spoken  about  it  — 
that  a  man  making  a  formal  call  should  hold  on 
to  his  hat.  Eleanor  had  probably  read  a  different 
book;  for  she  seized  his  hat  gently  but  firmly, 
and  an  amiable  struggle  ensued.  Eleanor  put  the 
hat  on  the  piano,  and  the  ice  was  broken. 

Mr.  Ripley  J.  Stokes  was  slight  and  delicate- 
looking,  with  an  expression  of  great  kindliness. 
His  large  brown  eyes  were  very  pleasant  to  most 
people,  because  they  had  a  respectfully-listening 
expression.  He  would  have  been  more  interest- 
ing to  people  in  general  if  he  had  not  limited  the 
care  of  his  dress  to  a  large  half-moon  of  glossy 
brown  hair,  which  he  trained  gracefully  over  his 
forehead;  and  to  the  no  less  careful  cultivation  of 
light-blue  neckties.  Nevertheless,  Mr.  Stokes  was 
"nice,"  and  everybody  in  Redwood  liked  nim. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      147 

The  "  waterfall  "  and  the  necktie  might  repel,  but 
who  is  too  fastidious  to  resist  good  feeling  for  a 
man  who  listens  to  everything  with  a  pair  of  soft, 
respectful  eyes? 

Eleanor  felt  the  consolation  and  the  flattery  of 
those  eyes  —  although  it  did  occur  to  her  that  he 
had  put  on  his  summer  coat  too  early. 

"I  thought  I'd  drop  in,"  Mr.  Stokes  said, 
gently.  "  Belinda  asked  me  to  come ;  though  I 
feared  you  would  not  see  me,  as  I  saw  Mr.  Par- 
tridge going  away." 

Mr.  Partridge  was  the  Presbyterian  minister, 
whom  the  artful  Belinda  had  sent  away. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you.  My  father  is 
somewhat  better.  I  was  afraid  he  would  die." 

" '  The  Lord  giveth  and  the  Lord  taketh 
away,' "  observed  Mr.  Stokes.  "  If  your  father 
had  died  you  would,  I  am  sure,  have  cast  your 
burden  on  the  Lord." 

The  interest  faded  out  of  Eleanor's  eyes.  "  It 
would  have  been  very  hard,"  she  said.  "  Do  you 
think  my  father  could  have  gone  to  Heaven  if  —  " 

The  listening  eyes  did  not  help  her  out. 

"  If,"  she  went  on,  —  "  if  the  worst  had  hap- 
pened?" 

"Death  is  not  the  worst,"  answered  the  young 
man,  evasively. 

"  But  would  the  worst  have  happened  to  my 
father?  You  know  my  father,  and  you  are  almost 
a  minister.  Surely  you  can  tell  me." 


148      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Mr.  Stokes  dropped  his  eyes.  "The  wind  is 
coming  up,  —  I  am  afraid  the  apple  crop  will  be 
a  failure  this  year." 

"  No,  no  !  "  cried  Eleanor ;  "  you  cannot  avoid 
my  question.  Do  you  think  my  father  would 
have  gone  to  Heaven?  Do  you  think  he  could 
have  gone  to  Heaven  at  once,  just  as  he  was  ?  " 

"  Not  just  as  he  was,"  said  Mr.  Stokes,  after 
an  embarrassing  pause.  "  Your  father  was  some- 
what liberal  in  his  religious  opinions." 

"  I  know  —  I  know !  "  exclaimed  Eleanor, 
eagerly.  "  But  last  night  he  almost  kissed  the 
crucifix  I  happened  to  have ;  and  he  looked  for 
a  moment  almost  as  if  he  were  a  Christian." 

"  The  crucifix !  "  cried  Mr.  Stokes,  in  alarm ; 
and  then  he  calmed  down,  and  recalled  some  of 
his  lectures  in  the  seminary.  "Ah,  Miss  Red- 
wood," he  said,  "symbols  are  nothing.  Did  he 
say  in  his  heart,  '  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liv- 
eth '  ?  Did  he  cast  his  sins  on  Jesus  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  —  I  don't  know,"  Eleanor  said, 
rising  from  her  chair  and  walking  toward  the 
window.  "But  I  thought  that  there  might  be  a 
chance  for  him  after  his  look  at  the  crucifix  last 
night ;  I  believe  there  will  be  a  chance  for  him  — 
if  he  should  die  to-night." 

Mr.  Stokes  sympathized  deeply  with  her  agita- 
tion. She  was  both  beautiful  and  graceful,  and 
she  was  in  trouble.  Mr.  Stokes  had  every  temp- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      149 

tation  to  promise  Heaven  for  her  father,  but  his 
principles  were  too  strong  for  him.  Agnosticism 
was  bad;  and  he  felt  that  the  crucifix  was  not 
only  bad,  but  un-American  ;  it  seemed  to  threaten 
the  public  schools  in  some  way. 

"  There  must  be  some  place  for  good  men  like 
my  father,  who  want  to  believe,  but  who  don't 
know  how;  who  have  unconsciously  begun  to 
believe,  and  who  at  the  last  do  as  my  father  has 
done.  There  must  be." 

Eleanor's  voice  became  passionate.  Mr.  Stokes 
looked  at  his  hat  longingly. 

"  Andover  has  been  saying  something  to  that 
effect,  but  we  haven't  taken  it  up  yet." 

There  was  silence.  A  newsboy's  voice  was 
heard  crying  out  loudly:  "Water  in  the  Fly- 
Away  Mine  !  Extra  —  extra  !  Fly-Away  Mine 
filled  with  water !  Extra  edition  !  " 

"  Why,  that's  papa's  mine !  "  said  the  young 
girl,  listening. 

«  Yes." 

After  all,  the  calamity  had  its  value,  in  the 
emergency :  it  might  divert  Eleanor's  attention 
from  the  other  world. 

"It  may  make  him  poor?"  she  said,  interroga- 
tively. "  Ah  !  well,  I  don't  care,"  she  continued, 
"  as  long  as  I  have  my  hands." 

And  as  she  stretched  out  her  taper  fingers,  the 
grace  and  pathos  of  the  action  overcame  Mr. 
Stokes'  prejudices. 


150      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  I  am  sure,"  he  said,  "  that  the  Andover 
people  are  right." 

Belinda  came  in  with  the  crullers  and  a  benig- 
nant smile.  As  she  was  showing  Mr.  Stokes  to 
the  door,  she  said :  "  You  will  be  able  to  go  back 
to  college  soon.  Mrs.  Bayard  is  going  to  manage 
about  the  money;  it's  to  go  to  you,  not  to  the 
Kindergarten  —  " 

Mr.  Stokes  frowned.  "  Belinda,"  he  said,  softly, 
"I  can't  go  back  to  college.  It's  not  money  I 
most  need :  it's  to  know  what  I  ought  to  believe." 

Belinda  raised  her  hands  in  amazement.  "  Sich 
words  ! "  she  said.  "  Sich  words  !  Why,  if  you 
talk  that  way,  where  am  I  to  look  for  spiritooal 
consolation  ?  " 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICE  DESMOND.      151 

XII. 

"  Fresh  woods  and  pastures  new." 

PATRICK  DESMOND'S  journey  to  New  York 
was  apparently  uneventful ;  but  to  him  —  he  had 
never  travelled  more  than  thirty  miles  outside  of 
Redwood  —  it  was  full  of  events.  He  observed 
much,  he  learned  much.  Ever  and  anon  a  pang 
shot  through  his  heart.  There  was  still  a  great 
deal  of  the  boy  in  Desmond,  and  his  eyes  became 
hazy  more  than  once  as  he  thought  of  the  kind, 
cheerful  face  of  the  dear  old  mother.  At  times 
another  and  a  younger  face  arose  before  him,  and 
he  sighed  as  he  thought  of  it. 

It  was  half-past  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
when  he  reached  the  Grand  Central  station,  in 
New  York.  Its  gloom  oppressed  him  and  its 
bustle  pleased  him.  He  said  to  himself  that,  after 
all,  it  was  a  noble  thing  to  be  even  a  small  part  of 
such  a  great  city.  He  carefully  enquired  the  way 
to  Harlem,  purchased  a  large  package  of  dubious 
candy  for  little  Miley  from  an  Italian  at  the  cor- 
ner, and  gave  himself  up  to  the  pleasure  of  his 
first  ride  in  a  car  of  the  elevated  railway. 

After  he  had  reached  his  street  in  Harlem,  he 
began  his  search  for  the  Grand  Windsor.  He 
expected  to  find  a  hotel :  he  found  a  ten-story 
building,  of  red  brick  and  brown  stone,  with  a 


152      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

massive  door,  over  which  was  carved  ornately  the 
name  "  Grand  Windsor."  The  heavy  glass  door 
was  opened  by  a  small  page  covered  with  diagonal 
lines  of  brass  buttons. 

"  What  yer  want?  "  asked  the  page,  with  a  bul- 
lying air,  that  struck  Desmond  as  inappropriate. 

"  Does  Mr.  Galligan  live  here  ?  " 

"  Galligan  de  Assembly  man  ?  You  bet  he  does 
—  when  he's  at  home.  Just  you  ring  de  fift  bell 
on  de  right  side." 

Desmond  obeyed  meekly.  There  was  an  air 
about  the  little  creature  that  impressed  him ;  and 
the  little  creature  knew  how  to  make  the  most  of 
his  buttons  and  his  Bowery  accent. 

The  bell  tinkled.  Desmond  heard  a  voice 
whisper,  "  Who's  there  ?  "  He  hesitated  a  moment, 
and  then,  seeing  the  mouth  of  a  speaking-tube, 
called,  "  Patrick  Desmond.  "  A  door  opened 
with  a  click,  and  he  ascended  a  thickly-carpeted, 
musty-smelling  stairway.  The  page  kindly  called 
after  him : 

"  Fift  floor  —  and  don't  you  forget  it." 

He  reached  a  little  door,  on  which  he  read, 
"  Hon.  M.  Galligan,"  and  was  saluted  by  a  burst 
of  melody. 

Mrs.  Miles  Galligan  had  been  in  a  state  of 
expectancy  all  day.  She  had  never  seen  Mrs. 
Desmond ;  but,  as  she  knew  that  her  aunt  had 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

frequently  helped  her  mother  in  special  seasons  of 
adversity,  she  was  particularly  anxious  to  impress 
Patrick  with  her  present  splendor,  and  to  insinu- 
ate that  this  splendor  was  not  of  recent  origin. 
Patrick  Desmond  had  the  blood  of  the  Mulligans 
in  his  veins :  that  was  sufficient  to  make  her 
anxious  to  defend  him  against  the  world,  —  but  it 
would  take  her  a  long  time  to  forget  the  irritation 
occasioned  by  the  remembrance  of  the  kindness 
of  his  mother. 

When  Nellie  married  Miles  Galligan,  and  had 
left  Lacy's  shop  to  take  her  place,  as  she  fondly 
hoped,  in  regions  where  the  diamond  scintillates 
by  day  and  night,  she  had  been  a  very  sprightly 
young  person.  Her  giggle  was  perpetual,  her 
bang  redundant,  and  no  picnic  or  assembly  had 
been  complete  without  the  most  indefatigable  dan- 
cer in  her  district.  But  Nellie  had  grown  stout 
and  a  little  fretful.  Her  manner  had  been  toned 
down  by  the  cares  of  housekeeping  and  the  de- 
mands of  little  Miley,  —  a  fat  and  combative 
child,  with  his  father's  face  in  miniature.  And 
Miles  himself  was  a  care.  Nellie  had  fondly 
believed  that  she  could  coerce  Miles  out  of  the 
selfishness  which  had  made  the  lives  of  his  sisters 
miserable.  She  believed  in  her  power  to  force 
him  to  work,  and  at  the  same  time  to  allow  him 
that  liberty  —  particularly  in  the  matter  of 
drinking  —  which  his  sisters  had  tried  to  restrict. 


154      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

At  first  it  was  very  well.  Miles  was  proud  of 
Nellie.  His  brother-in-law,  John  Longworthy,  gave 
him  an  allowance,  which  had  been  continued ;  and 
she  was  enabled  to  dress  in  a  way  that  dazzled  her 
old  acquaintances  and  made  her  sisters-in-law  un- 
speakably indignant.  True,  the  flaming  Gains- 
borough hat  and  the  flamboyant  redingote  dis- 
appeared ;  but  Nellie's  new  dressmakers,  who  were 
famous  among  the  gayest  people  of  the  East  Side, 
entered  madly  into  her  desire  to  fill  Lize  Brown 
and  some  of  her  old  friends  with  envy.  They 
succeeded,  and  Miles  often  declared  his  admiration 
of  Nellie's  «  style." 

But  even  the  Longworthy  allowance  and  Miles' 
salary  as  a  member  of  the  Assembly  could  not 
stand  the  strain  of  so  much  champagne  at  little 
suppers  given  in  the  flat,  and  Nellie's  careless 
manner  of  housekeeping.  Besides,  Miles  began 
to  miss  many  little  comforts.  He  felt  the  want  of 
that  ceaseless  care  which  his  sister  Maiy  had 
lavished  on  him.  And  when  little  Miley  came,  he 
was  neglected  altogether;  and  his  temper  was  not 
improved.  Nellie,  whose  manners  varied  very 
much  according  to  her  mood,  had  a  temper  too, 
and  a  greater  command  of  words  than  her  husband. 
Miles  soon  discovered  that  the  fascinating  dancer, 
the  belle  of  all  the  picnics,  and  the  "  best  dresser  " 
in  his  district,  was  not  exactly  the  wife  for  a  man 
of  his  temperament.  He  was  somewhat  afraid  of 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      155 

her ;  but  he  had  his  remedy  when  she  lost  her  tem- 
per —  he  could  go  out,  and  he  did. 

There  were  times  when  he  bitterly  accused  his 
sisters  of  having  deserted  him,  and  his  mind  was 
in  a  chronic  state  of  disgust  at  their  ingratitude. 
John  Longworthy  and  Esther  were  in  Europe, 
amusing  themselves  ;  yet  he  and  his  family  were 
wearing  life  away  in  a  small  flat  in  Harlem. 
Arthur  Fitzgerald  and  Mary  had  a  pleasant  house 
down  town,  and  all  they  had  done  for  him  and 
Nellie  was  to  invite  them  to  dinner  occasionally ; 
and,  when  the  Fitzgerald  baby  died,  to  send 
Nellie  a  lot  of  little  clothes,  which  Nellie,  of 
course,  gave  away.  He  hated  such  upstarts. 
True,  Mary  did  sometimes  come  around  and  talk 
to  Nellie ;  but  he  couldn't  see  why  she  couldn't 
take  little  Miley  for  a  month  or  so  at  a  time  ;  or, 
better  still,  have  his  family  live  with  her.  She 
and  Arthur  had  no  cares  and  a  very  large  house. 
Although  Miles  had  his  opinion  of  Nellie,  which  he 
often  expressed,  he  felt  that  she  was  his  own,  and 
he  resented  anything  that  could  be  made  to  seem  a 
slight  to  her ;  and  her  imagination  was  capable  of 
cultivating  "slights"  perennially, .  where  his  sis- 
ters were  concerned. 

Nellie  was  quick  and  plastic.  At  Lacy's  she 
had  not  been  dissatisfied  with  her  surroundings, 
and  even  now  she  looked  back  at  the  period  of  the 
Lady  Rosebuds'  ball  with  gentle  regret.  She  had 


156      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

enjoyed  herself,  and  she  had  not  thought  of  the. 
future.  The  atmosphere  of  the  Grand  Windsor 
was  very  different  from  that  of  The  Anchor. 
Everything  breathed  of  gentility  and  even  fashion. 
The  caps  of  the  nurse-girls  were  higher  and  their 
aprons  longer  than  on  Fifth  Avenue ;  and  Nellie, 
who  could  not  get  a  French  maid,  felt  obliged  to 
force  hers  to  speak  Polish  Hebrew  to  little  Miley 
when  he  took  his  airings.  She  soon  learned  that 
a  nurse  who  spoke  English  was  impossible  in  the 
best  society  of  the  Grand  Windsor ;  she  had  also 
learned  many  other  disturbing  things.  Among 
these,  to  a  limited  extent,  was  the  art  of  music. 
Nellie  had  spent  some  time  in  cultivation  of  herx 
voice  and  in  acquiring  several  "  pieces,''  under 
the  direction  of  Professor  Fortescue,  who  prepared 
"  gents  and  ladies  for  the  stage,"  in  the  Bowery, 
two  doors  from  the  atelier  for  a  time  occupied  by 
Mr.  Bastien,  the  photographer. 

Nellie,  in  fact,  had  aspirations.  These  aspira- 
tions would  have  made  her  a  very  useful  woman, 
had  they  not  been  so  hopelessly  misdirected.  The 
social  surroundings  of  the  tenement  house  had 
dragged  down  the  best  that  was  in  her,  and  yet  it 
was  continually  struggling  to  the  surface.  If  she 
had  loved  the  gayety  of  the  picnic  and  the  as- 
sembly, it  was  only  natural.  What  other  amuse- 
ments had  she  ?  It  is  the  nature  of  young  people 
to  long  for  amusement.  Her  home  in  the  tene- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      157 

merit  house  was  no  home  at  all :  it  was  a  sleeping 
place.  Patrick  Desmond's  mother  was  no  doubt 
of  stronger  fibre  than  Nellie's  mother ;  but  the 
immeasurable  difference  that  now  separated  Des- 
mond from  his  cousin  was  in  the  fact  that  he  had 
a  home.  There  is  a  great  deal  in  blood:  the 
strain  will  out  some  time  or  other;  but  both 
Desmond  and  his  mother  would  have  suffered 
greatly  had  they  been  forced  to  dwell  in  the 
squalor  of  The  Anchor  —  the  tenement  house  in 
which  Nellie  had  lived  and  had  her  being. 

Transplanted  to  that  pretentious  flat,  the  Grand 
Windsor,  Nellie  had  determined  to  make  herself 
worthy  of  her  new  environment ;  and,  unluckily, 
the  new  environment  was  not  much  healthier  for 
her  than  the  old  tenement-house  surroundings. 
If  she  had  lavished  a  month's  savings  on  some 
piece  of  finery  in  the  old  days,  in  order  to  crush 
an  envious  rival  of  the  glove  department  at  Lacy's, 
she  was  under  similar  temptations  now  to  keep 
beyond  her  neighbors  in  the  flat,  who,  like  herself, 
were  people  who  were  creeping  upward  socially. 
They  were  mostly  in  politics  —  the  contractor  who 
built  the  Grand  Windsor  having  had  special  rea- 
sons for  lowering  the  rent  to  gentlemen  with 
"  pulls  "  in  the  political  world,  —  and  mostly,  too, 
in  that  stage  of  progress  when  the  ladies  wear 
diamond  earrings  in  the  morning  with  a  n£glig$ 
costume,  and  the  gentlemen  tell  how  many  bottles 


158      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

of  "  wine  "  —  meaning  champagne  —  they  have 
drunk  or  are  about  to  drink. 

Even  little  Miley's  perambulator  became  a  sub- 
ject of  rivalry.  That  precious  little  creature  had 
been  content  with  a  plain  carriage  at  first,  but  now 
he  drove  in  a  gilded  wicker-work  shell,  containing 
old  rose-colored  cushions,  and  shaded  by  multi- 
tudinous lace  ruffles.  This  gorgeous  equipage 
had  been  purchased  on  the  instalment  plan ;  and 
the  knowledge  that  the  neighbors  had  become 
aware  of  it,  through  an  altercation  her  servant  had 
with  the  collector,  had  helped  to  indent  the  two 
upright  lines  which  were  showing  themselves  on 
Nellie's  forehead. 

Miles  and  his  family  were  supposed  to  be  living 
temporarily  in  the  Grand  Windsor ;  he  kept  rooms 
down  town,  to  which  they  resorted  at  certain 
periods  of  the  year,  when  electioneering  was  ab- 
solutely necessary. 

Beneath  all  Nellie's  giggles  and  frills  and  friv- 
olity there  was  a  strong  desire  to  do  right.  Since 
her  First  Communion  she  had  no  regular  religious 
instructions ;  an  occasional  sermon  —  she  never 
had  time  on  Sunday  for  the  High  Mass,  except  on 
some  special  occasion, —  and  the  less  frequent 
reading  of  a  good  book  from  the  parochial  library, 
made  the  sum  of  her  religious  exercises.  But  she 
had  never  missed  Mass  in  her  life,  and  she  went  to 
her  "  duty  "  with  great  regularity.  She  was  not 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      159 

singular  in  this :  all  the  Catholic  girls  in  The 
Anchor  did  the  same ;  and  the  most  inveterate 
dancer  and  picnic-goer  among  them,  knowing 
much  of  evil  through  contact  with  it  in  her  daily 
life,  was  possessed  of  a  purity  of  thought  and  act 
to  an  extent  which  only  the  angels  knew ;  for  men 
are  too  apt  to  judge  from  appearances. 

Nellie  was  ambitious  ;  she  did  not  suffer  from 
Miles'  selfishness  after  her  marriage,  as  one  would 
who  had  been  disappointed  in  the  discovery  of  it. 
She  knew  what  to  expect :  selfishness  was  not  un- 
common in  the  male  sex.  Sometimes  she  felt  howT 
grateful  she  ought  to  be  for  not  having  to  earn  a 
living  for  Miles.  Had  not  Lize  Brown  married 
Jim  Smith,  the  gay,  the  d^bonnair ;  and  did  she 
not  still  occupy  her  place  at  Lacy's,  while  Jim 
settled  local  politics  on  the  corners?  And  little 
Katie  Grogan,  —  wasn't  she  playing  in  "  Cinder- 
ella "  at  a  dime  museum,  that  her  better  half 
might  attend  the  races  at  Sheepshead  Bay,  when 
he  was  not  too  "  tired  "  to  go  out  ? 

Nellie  was  not  disappointed  in  Miles :  she  was 
disappointed  in  herself.  She  had  intended  to 
reform  Miles,  to  "  mould "  him ;  and  he  was 
undoubtedly  afraid  of  her.  Selfish,  turbulent, 
sheltered  from  all  rude  shocks  by  his  sister  Mary, 
idle,  selfish,  too  cowardly  to  be  quite  brutal,  Miles 
learned  to  be  somewhat  afraid  of  Nellie.  But 
familiarity  bred  a  certain  callousness ;  and  then, 
he  could  always  avoid  a  storm  by  keeping  away. 


160      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Miles  had  changed  in  two  years.  He  had 
grown  stout  and  round,  and  had  cultivated  a 
heavy  mustache.  His  cheeks  had  almost  closed 
up  over  his  eyes,  and  when  he  laughed  nothing 
of  them  could  be  seen.  His  face  was  ruddy  at  all 
times ;  on  the  cheeks  there  was  a  dark  red  tint, 
which  complaisant  people  took  for  health.  Miles 
himself  was  always  "  complaining  ";  and  when  he 
"  complained  "  he  found,  as  he  often  said  to  ad- 
miring constituents,  that  whiskey  was  cheaper 
than  a  doctor. 

Nellie  was  disgusted  with  herself  because  she 
could  not  control  Miles.  She  was  quick  to  see 
possibilities.  She  measured  herself  with  the  peo- 
ple she  met,  and  felt  that  she  was  clever.  "  I 
could  learn  anything,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  if  some- 
body would  only  teach  me  how."  But  when  on  one 
occasion  Mary  Fitzgerald,  Miles'  sister,  had  gently 
proposed  to  help  her  in  certain  branches  of  knowl- 
edge, culinary  and  otherwise,  Nellie  had  toj.d  her 
that  "  she  must  know  that  she  was  as  good  as  the 
Galligans  any  time,  and  that  anybody  that  took 
her  for  an  ignoramus  would  be  left." 

Mary  had  retired,  sighing.  She  was  still  full  of 
solicitude  for  Miles, —  that  dear  Miles  whom  her 
mother  had  left  to  her  care.  There  were  times 
even  when  she  reproached  herself  for  having  mar- 
ried, and,  in  so  doing,  deserted  that  sweet  little 
brother,  to  whom  she  ought  to  be  a  guardian. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      161 

Arthur  Fitzgerald  at  first  laughed  at  this  ;  finally 
he  resigned  himself  to  it.  After  all,  her  devotion 
to  Miles,  most  unreasonable  and  foolish  as  it 
seemed,  was  his  wife's  only  fault. 

Nellie,  too  proud  to  admit  her  ignorance,  read 
anxiously  all  the  advice  to  women  printed  in  the 
various  Sunday  papers.  She  managed  to  acquire 
a  knowledge  of  the  usual  etiquette  of  life,  but  her 
housekeeping  was  so  atrocious  that  Miles  got  into 
the  habit  of  often  alluding  to  the  superior  charms 
of  Mary's  housekeeping.  A  day  came  when  Nel- 
lie felt  that  she  could  almost  stab  Miles  every  time 
he  uttered  his  sister's  name. 

Nellie  had  become  rather  good-looking,  ac- 
cording to  the  opinion  of  Miles'  friends.  She  was 
stouter :  she  had  what  people  called  "  a  presence  "; 
her  bang  was  as  glossy  as  ever.  Her  "  society  " 
manner  was  rather  pompous,  as  she  had  studied  it 
from  the  stage, —  altogether,  she  was  a  mixture  of 
pretension,  vulgarity,  boldness,  sensitiveness,  am- 
bition, good  sense,  and  good  intentions. 

She  was  keenly  alive  to  the  necessity  of  im- 
pressing Patrick  Desmond  with  her  present  position 
in  life.  Mrs.  Desmond  had  apprized  her  of  the 
date  of  her  son's  coming.  At  exactly  five  o'clock 
Miley  was  brought  into  the  little  parlor.  He  was 
a  bald-headed  child,  with  chubby  fists,  and  a  ten- 
dency to  scowl.  He  was  attired  in  a  bluish-white 
lace  frock,  adorned  with  an  enormous  sash  of  pink 


162      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATBICK  DESMOND. 

ribbon,  with  a  spot  here  and  there,  which  Nellie 
knew  nobody  would  notice. 

The  parlor  was  a  wilderness  of  crimson  plush  : 
the  chairs  and  sofa  were  blazing  with  the  stuff ;  the 
lambrequin  was  heavy  with  roses  and  sunflowers 
embroidered  on  it ;  and  mats  and  tidies  of  red,  all 
showing  lumps  of  fruit  and  flowers,  were  every- 
where. A  crayon  of  Miles  hung  in  a  big  gilded 
frame  over  the  piano,  which  was  also  heavily 
draped  with  crimson  plush.  Nellie  had  attired 
herself  in  what  she  called  a  "  watteau  pleat."  It 
had  a  long  train  ;  it  was  pink  and  green,  and,  ex- 
cept for  a  grease  spot  here  and  there,  which  helped 
it  to  match  little  Miley's  sash,  it  was  doubtless  a 
thing  of  beauty.  Diamond  earrings  and  rings 
flashed  whenever  Nellie  moved. 

Miles  lounged  in  at  five  o'clock ;  he  put  his  tali 
white  hat  on  the  floor,  took  out  a  fat  cigar,  and 
threw  himself  at  full-length  on  the  sofa. 

"  Get  up,  "  said  Nellie,  sharply.  "  I'm  expect- 
ing my  cousin." 

"  Can't  help  it,"  answered  Miles,  in  a  drowsy 
tone.  "  I  don't  want  any  dinner.  Lunched  at 
the  As  tor  ;  ate  a  lot — " 

"  And  drank  a  lot,  "  said  Nellie,  more  sharply. 

"See  here,  Nell,'  began  Miles,  jumping  up, 
while  little  Miley  bowled  preparatory  to  the 
uttering  of  a  howl,  "  if  you're  going  to  talk  that 
way  before  this  cousin  of  yours  — " 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      163 

The  bell  tinkled. 

"  There  he  is  ! v'  cried  Nellie  ;  "  there  he  is !  " 
She  plumped  down  on  the  piano-stool,  raised  her 
eyes  soulfully  to  Miles'  picture,  and,  while  picking 
out  an  accompaniment  with  her  right  hand,  raised 
her  voice : 

"  Only  a  violet,  dawling,— 

Only  a  violet  bloo-oo ; 
Only  a  violet,  dawling, 

Shall  I  give  to  you-oo. 
Only  a  flower,  dearest, — 

Only  a  flower,  swee-ee-eet,— 
The  earliest  bloom,  the  rarest, 

To  lay  at  your  fee-ee-eet. 
Only  a  violet,  dawling, — 

Only  a  violet,  dear  ; 
On-lee  a  violet,  sweetest, — 

Onlee-ee  a  vi-o-o-o-let  fair !  " 

This  was  the  music  Patrick  Desmond  heard  as 
he  entered. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  exclaimed  Nellie,  shaking  her  ear- 
rings in  the  most  modest  confusion.  "  How  you 
startled  us !  Miley,  my  love,  as  he  didn't  send  up 
a  card,  I  suppose  this  is  Patrick  Desmond.  " 

Desmond's  face  flushed.  To  be  in  the  presence 
of  so  much  style  was  embarrassing  enough  ;  but  at 
that  moment  he  caught  little  Miley 's  eye,  and  the 
infant  scowled  and  burst  into  a  malevolent  howl, 
that  made  him  wish  that  he  were  back  in  Redwood. 

"How  you  startled  us,"  said  Nellie,  sweetly. 
"  I'll  hardly  have  time  to  change  my  dress  for 
dinner,  —  but  I  forget  everything  when  I  sing." 


164      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  Have  a  drink?  "  asked  Miles,  shaking  hands. 
"  Never  mind  the  old  woman :  come  right  into  the 
bosom  of  the  family." 

"  My  cousin  doesn't  drink,"  said  Nellie,  with  a 
sharpness  that  startled  Desmond.  Then  she  gave 
little  Miley  a  frosty  slap,  that  seemed  to  congeal 
the  sound  in  the  throat  of  that  beautiful  and  pre- 
cious child. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      165 

XIII. 

JASPER.  —  Who  are  most  easily  deceived  ? 

JOYCE.  —  The  true ;  but  the  false  are  deceived  the  longest. 

—  Old  Play. 

DESMOND'S  first  evening  with  his  relatives  was 
not  gay.  Miles  drank  a  great  deal  of  beer  at 
dinner,  which  was  very  ceremonious,  but  very 
bad.  Nellie  kept  up  a  series  of  remarks  in  an 
undertone  to  the '  maid,  who  seemed  to  resent 
them ;  and  Miles  winked  occasionally  at  Patrick 
when  Nellie's  "  society  manner  "  became  too  op- 
pressive. As  the  beer  went  down  Miles'  spirits 
rose,  and  he  even  dared  to  joke  about  the  finger- 
bowls.  Nellie  darted  fiery  glances  at  him,  and 
her  manner  and  conversation  became  more  and 
more  elegant.  She  watched  eagerly  for  some  ex- 
pression of  surprise  or  admiration  on  the  face  of 
her  cousin  from  the  country ;  and  she  began  to  be 
bitterly  disappointed  as  all  her  best  china  passed 
in  review  before  him. 

The  truth  was  that  Desmond  was  hungry,  and 
Nellie's  new  soup  plates  and  decorated  entree 
dishes  did  not  compensate  for  burned  soup  and 
what  seemed  to  be  codfish  on  toast.  If  Nellie 
had  known  that  he  was  impressed  with  the  idea 
that  she  was  immensely  rich,  she  would  have 
been  satisfied.  To  Patrick's  mind,  the  maid  in 
the  white  cap  and  apron  bringing  in  a  variety  of 


166      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

pretty  dishes,  the  silver  on  the  sideboard,  the 
flowers  and  thin  glasses,  meant  riches.  He  did 
think  that  the  little  coffee-cups  were  very  pretty, 
and  he  would  have  been  glad  to  say  something 
pleasant  in  order  to  make  his  cousin  feel  that  her 
efforts  had  not  been  in  vain ;  but  he  had  learned 
the  first  lesson  in  the  provincial  code  of  etiquette 
—  never  to  praise  anything.  In  Redwood  a  com- 
pliment meant  that  the  utterer  of  it  was  either 
rustically  unacquainted  with  the  things  he  ad- 
mired, or  that  he  was  lying  for  some  fell  purpose. 

Although  the  serving  of  ice  cream  in  a  lace  frill 
struck  Patrick  with  fear  at  first  —  for  it  looked 
like  soap,  —  and  afterward  with  admiration  —  for, 
on  a  second  examination,  it  seemed  very  dainty,  — 
he  made  no  remark.  It  was  in  vain  that  Nellie 
loudly  regretted,  while  the  maid  smiled  cynically, 
that  she  had  no  time  "to  prepare.  If  she  had 
really  expected  him,  she  would  not  have  put 
before  him  an  ordinary  family  dinner ;  it  must 
seem  so  inferior  to  his  mother's.  But,"  Nellie 
added,  with  a  glance  at  little  Miley,  who  had 
painted  himself  and  his  high-chair  red  with 
tomato  sauce,  "  it  is  hard  when  one  has  a  baby 
to  look  after."  Patrick  looked  at  Miley,  whose 
aspect  was  ferocious  and  repellent,  and  agreed 
heartily  that  it  must  be  hard. 

Nellie   bit   her   lip;    what  a  stupid   idiot   this 
cousin  of  hers  was.     And  her  feelings  were  not 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      167 

soothed  when  she  heard  giggles  in  the  kitchen, 
and  observed  that  Miles  seemed  to  be  choking 
with  laughter. 

"  You  really  will  not  tell  your  mother  that  I 
am  a  bad  housekeeper,  or  criticise  the  way  we 
poor  New  Yorkers  serve  a  dinner;  now,  will  you? 

0  dear !  that  dreadful  girl  has  actually  given  you 
a  spoon  for  your  cream,  instead  of  a  fork." 

Miles  burst  into  a  vacant  laugh,  and  then  said 
he  couldn't  help  it.  Patrick's  face  reddened.  In 
the  first  place,  he  was  thinking  that  he  would  tell 
his  mother  how  much  better  her  cooking  was  than 
the  food  prepared  for  the  table  even  of  the  rich- 
est statesman,  and  served  with  awful  solemnity 
on  beautiful  china.  And  Nellie's  speech  had 
caught  him  red-handed  in  the  thought.  His  em- 
barrassed silence  and  Miles'  laugh  set  the  match 
to  Nellie's  temper. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Miley  Galligan?"  de- 
manded Nellie.  "  You  ought  to  have  better  sense 
than  to  grin  at  nothing.  You've  no  more  gump- 
tion than  a  flea.  It's  not  your  impudence  to  me 

1  mind,   but  it's  your  example  to  little  Miley. 
You're  not  fit  to  have  a  child  that  will  fill  a  proper 
station  in  life." 

Miles  made  no  answer ;  life,  after  all,  is  short, 
and  a  bad  dinner  is  not  better  for  a  verbal  battle. 
But  suddenly  Nellie  recovered  herself.  The  din- 
ner was  nearly  over;  there  might  be  a  chance 
yet  of  impressing  her  cousin. 


168      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

**.  Did  you  go  out  much  at  —  at  —  Beachwood, 
I  think  you  call  it  ?  "  said  Nellie,  with  her  best, 
artificial  smile,  learned  partly  from  her  observa- 
tions at  Lacy's  counter,  and  partly  by  visits  to 
the  theatre. 

"  Redwood,"  said  Patrick.  "  Oh !  yes,  I  took  a 
walk  every  night." 

"  Oh !  I  mean  socially,"  observed  Nellie.  "  I 
suppose  you  were  in  the  swim,  —  your  mother 
made  a  very  elegant  marriage,  I  have  heard  said." 

This  was  intended  as  a  hint  that  Patrick  should 
try  to  impress  Miles.  The  New  York  Mulligans 
could  not  be  made  impressive ;  but,  by  judicious 
manipulation,  the  Redwood  Mulligans  might  be 
exhibited  through  a  vista  of  splendor.  Patrick 
reddened  again  and  did  not  answer ;  the  allusion 
to  swimming  puzzled  him.  Miles  winked  trium- 
phantly at  Nellie,  and  made  the  mental  note  that 
the  Redwood  Mulligans  couldn't  be  "  much  " ;  he 
wouldn't  let  her  throw  them  in  his  face,  any  way. 

In  despair,  Nellie  rubbed  little  Miley  to  a  sem- 
blance of  whiteness,  while  he  howled,  and  led  the 
way  to  the  parlor.  Here  Patrick  made  a  redeem- 
ing step  by  presenting  the  paper  of  candy  to  the 
amiable  child,  who  showed  his  teeth,  with  an 
expression  that  was  less  turbulent  than  usual. 

Nellie  took  a  low  wicker-work  chair  and  put 
her  arm  on  the  back  of  the  sofa,  on  which  Miles 
assumed  his  usual  reclining  position.  Nellie 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      169 

intended  that  Patrick  should  take  this  to  be  a 
picture  of  true  domestic  harmony,  and  so  report 
it  to  his  mother.  But  the  young  man  was  strug- 
gling with  one  of  Miles'  fat  cigars,  the  pores  of 
which  seemed  to  be  stopped  up. 

"  I  may  as  well  have  an  understanding  with 
you  to-night,"  Miles  said,  making  himself  vague 
through  a  cloud  of  smoke.  "  I  can  hardly  afford 
to  keep  a  secretary,  because  there  is  no  appropri- 
ation for  it  at  Albany.  There's  always  a  lot  of 
talk  about  economy,  —  just  as  if  the  American 
people,  more  especially  the  people  of  New  York, 
didn't  hate  meanness.  But  there's  always  a  way 
of  beating  the  devil  around  the  stump,  you'd 
better  believe;  and  I  won't  have  to  go  down 
deep  in  my  pocket  to  pay  your  salary." 

Here  Miles  laughed,  and  little  Miley,  startled, 
began  to  howl.  "  Oh  I  choke  the  kid,"  said  his 
father,  amiably.  "  He's  a  voice  like  his  mother. 
I  say,  Nell,  will  you  sing  something  for  us  after  a 
wliile  ?  "  he  added,  noticing  a  frown  on  her  brow. 

"  If  you  stick  to  your  work,"  he  went  on,  ad- 
dressing Desmond,  "  and  if  you're  quick  about  it, 
I'll  put  you  in  the  way  of  having  a  home  of  your 
own,"  —  Miles  waved  his  hands  complacently  at 
the  red  plush,  which  the  flaring  gas-light  made 
redder ;  "  and  a  good  one,  too.  There's  money  to 
be  had,  my  boy,  if  you  know  where  to  find  it." 

Desmond's  eyes  brightened ;  he  ceased  to  pump 


170      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

at  the  congested  cigar.  He  had  no  desire  to  be 
like  these  people,  prosperous  as  they  seemed  to 
be ;  but  he  was  most  anxious  to  attain  the  same 
degree  of  prosperity. 

"  You'll  not  have  much  hard  work,"  said 
Nellie,  encouragingly ;  "  and  you'll  be  introduced 
to  all  our  friends  as  my  relative.  And  that'll 
help  you  very  much,  because  a  stranger  in  New 
York  ain't  of  much  account  unless  he  is  prop- 
erly—" 

"Oh!  bother,  Nell,"  interrupted  Miles.  "A 
young  fellow  will  find  plenty  of  friends,  if  he 
wants  to  go  into  politics.  Now,  I've  got  to  have 
my  letters  written,"  continued  Miles,  knocking 
the  ashes  from  his  cigar  with  fingers  that  shook  a 
great  deal.  "  I  never  was  much  of  a  penman, 
and  they  pile  up.  Nell's  seen  some  of  your 
writing,  and  she  says  you  have  a  good  fist." 

"  He  has,"  remarked  Nellie,  emphatically.  "  His 
letters  written  for  his  mother  in  answer  to  mine 
are  as  clear  as  print." 

"  Well,  I  must  hurry  up  this  talk,"  said  Miles. 
"  I've  an  engagement  with  a  few  friends.  Ques- 
tion of  centralization  of  supplies,  —  important 
combination  for  the  best  interests  of  the  people,  — 
Hoffman  House  at  eight.  Now,  I'll  tell  you  what 
you  must  do.  Can  you  write  a  little  speech  for 
me  occasionally?" 

Desmond  hesitated. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      171 

"  A  little  thing  for  a  picnic,  you  know  ?  Or 
just  a  trifle  at  a  ratification  meeting  —  with  a 
funny  bit  in  it  ?  " 

"  I'll  try,"  said  Desmond,  doubtfully.  And  as 
he  thought  of  the  possibilities  held  out  by  Miles, 
some  words  he  had  learned  by  heart  out  of  a  book 
ran  through  his  mind  :  "  Do  that  which  is  assigned 
thee,  and  thou  canst  not  hope  too  much  or  dare 
too  much."  He  rebuked  himself  with  a  certain 
shame,  for  applying  them  to  the  making  of  Miles' 
speeches. 

"  I  like  a  little  style  about  the  after-dinner 
speeches  :  a  touch  of  Latin,  —  I  have  forgotten  it 
all  myself.  You  can't  do  that  ?  "  said  Miles,  as 
Desmond  shook  his  head.  "Ah,  well,  I'll  remem- 
ber enough.  At  any  rate,  you  can  always  get 
something  appropriate  at  the  back  of  the  diction- 
ary. There  are  some  other  little  things  you  need 
to  do,  but  I'll  think  of  them  later.  The  letters 
will  not  be  much  trouble.  You  can  begin  with  a 
big  bundle  of  them  to-morrow ;  and  take  the  after- 
noon off,  to  see  the  town." 

"What  kind  of  letters?"  asked  Desmond, 
doubtfully.  "  Do  they  need  special  knowledge  ?  " 

"  Of  course  they  do,"  answered  Miles.  "  But 
I'll  put  you  on  to  that.  Say,  Nell,  did  you  see 
that  one  from  Mr.  Markenstein  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  did,"  said  Nellie,  reproachfully. 
"  He's  a  good  friend  of  yours,  and  he  hasn't  been 
answered  yet." 


172      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  Oh !  well,"  returned  Miles,  jocosely,  "  Pat 
here  will  fix  that  all  right  —  " 

He  stopped  and  stared  at  Desmond ;  Nellie 
opened  her  eyes  in  amazement,  too.  Patrick's 
face  had  assumed  an  expression  of  disgust ;  he  put 
his  hand  very  firmly  on  Miles'  arm. 

"  I  am  in  the  habit,"  he  said,  quietly,  "  of  - 
of  —  reasoning  with  people  who  call  me  *  Pat.' ' 

Miles  looked  startled  and  then  angry.  Nellie 
said  to  herself  that  such  independence  would  not 
do.  After  all,  it  would  be  better  to  hire  some 
poor  creature  that  didn't  have  any  backing.  An- 
other glance  at  Patrick's  face  made  Miles  conclude 
rapidly  that  he  had  better  be  amiable ;  and,  be- 
sides, a  man  with  a  grip  like  that  might  be  all  the 
more  valuable. 

"  Oh !  well,  Mr.  Desmond ;  no  offence,"  he  said. 
"  Suppose  you  write  Mr.  Markenstein's  letter  ? 
He  is  one  of  my  most  prominent  constituents,  and 
he  sent  Nell  here  a  batch  of  Passover  bread, — 
'twas  like  hard-tack,  but  he  meant  well.  All  you 
have  to  do  is  to  write  :  '  Morris  Markenstein,  Esq.,' 
and  begin :  '  Dear  Mark,  —  The  Passover  bread 
you  sent  to  Mrs.  Galligan  has  been  a  real  treat  to 
me  and  my  family.  Indeed  my  little  boy  cries  for 
it  constantly.*  That's  pleasant  and  familiar.  And 
then  you  might  add :  '  Although  not  of  your  relig- 
ious belief,  I  revere  tenets  which  have  produced 
men  like  you.'  That's  neat  ?  " 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      173 

Patrick  said  it  was. 

"  You  can  write  that,  can't  you  ?  Or  there's 
one  to  Giuseppe  Galuppi,  a  great  worker  among 
the  Italians.  You  don't  happen  to  know  Italian  ? 
I  often  wish  I  had  married  an  Italian  woman," 
said  Miles,  regretfully.  "  If  I  had  an  Italian  wife, 
I  could  sweep  the  district  without  trouble." 

"  I  wish  you  had,  "  interposed  Nellie,  scorn- 
fully. "  You'd  suit  an  Eyetalian  better  than  me." 

"  Well,  you  may  say  it  in  this  way  :  '  The  bot- 
tle of  Chianti  you  sent  to  Mrs.  Galligan  has  been 
a  real  treat  to  me.  My  little  boy  will  drink 
nothing  but  it.'  Work  in  the  child  when  you 
can ;  the  men  don't  care,  but  their  wives  always 
read  those  letters.  You've  always  got  to  put  in 
some  taffy  for  the  women.  And  at  the  end  you 
may  say  :  '  Although  not  of  the  race  that  produced 
Columbo,  I  should  desire  above  all  things  to  be  a 
native  of  that  beautiful  Naples  that  produced  you.' 
It  always  fetches  them  to  speak  of  ^  their  towns ; 
for  they're  as  jealous  of  one  another  as  the  Tips 
and  the  Far-downs  used  to  be  when  the  Irish 
hadn't  been  Americanized.  Ain't  it  easy  ?  " 

Desmond  said  it  was,  but  his  heart  was  heavy  ; 
there  was  something  about  Miles  and  the  whole 
business  that  repelled  him.  And  yet  he  must 
tread  this  road  to  the  success  he  longed  for. 

Miles  jumped  up,  and  threw  his  cigar  stump 
into  a  spittoon  that  stood  in  the  corner.  "  I  must 


174     THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

go,"  he  said.  "  You'll  sleep  in  the  hall  room  to- 
night, and  to-morrow  I'll  take  you  to  the  Tivoli 
House,  where  you  are  to  board." 

He  kissed  little  Miley,  threw  him  up  in  the  air, 
and  was  about  to  go,  when  Nellie  suddenly  asked 
him  whether  he  had  forgotten  that  to-morrow  night 
was  "  engaged,  —  Lize  Smith's  party,  —  Jim's  got 
work,  and  they  are  going  to  have  a  few  friends, 
and  if  you  don't  go,  they'll  say  you're  stuck  up, 
and  you'll  lose  votes.  I  could  have  killed  that 
Lize  this  afternoon ;  she  called,  '  Nellie,  Nellie  I ' 
at  the  speaking-tube,  just  as  if  we  were  in  the 
same  positions.  I  don't  know  what  the  neighbors 
thought." 

"  I  can't  go,"  replied  Miles,  with  a  yawn.  "  I 
must  go  to  a  card-party.  Political  talk,  you  know, 
at  the  Mayor's."  And  he  winked  at  Desmond. 

"  But  you  must,  "  said  Nellie,  imperatively. 
"Lize  will  raise  the  neighborhood  against  you." 

"Well,  take  Desmond  and  go  yourself.  He 
may  like  it,  and  you  can  keep  my  end  up.  But 
don't  put  on  too  many  airs,  Nell,  —  they  don't 
like  it." 

Nellie  frowned  and  followed  Miles  to  the  door. 
Patrick  could  hear  the  murmur  of  a  subdued  dia- 
logue, in  which  her  voice  became  almost  pleading. 
When  she  came  in  again,  her  face  was  turned 
away.  She  took  up  little  Miley,  in  spite  of  his 
struggles. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      175 

"  I  must  take  this  child  to  bed,"  she  said,  still 
averting  her  face.  "  And,  as  you  must  be  tired, 
you  can  go  into  your  room.  Just  open  the  door 
near  the  piano.  You'll  find  the  gas  lit  and  your 
satchel  there." 

But  another  struggle  with  the  cherub  seemed  to 
restore  her  ;  she  raised  her  face,  with  her  artificial 
smile  on  it,  and  went  on  :  "  You  have  been  made 
a  member  of  our  family  from  the  first,  Mr.  Des- 
mond —  or  Patrick,  as  I  guess  I  may  call  you. 
Make  yourself  at  home,  and  don't  be  bashful." 

And  she  went  on  humming, 

"  Only  a  violet,  dawling, — 
Only  a  violet  bloo-o!  " 

Patrick  entered  a  room  which  to  him,  accus- 
tomed to  the  larger  rooms  of  the  country,  seemed 
a  mere  box.  Its  white  walls  were  unadorned  save 
by  a  colored  print  of  Murillo's  "  Immaculate  Con- 
ception." The  sense  of  loneliness  left  him  when 
he  saw  this ;  for  it  is  a  picture  which  has  raised 
more  hearts  to  heaven  than  perhaps  any  other. 
Raphael's  pictures  are  easily  vulgarized;  but 
neither  bad  paper,  bad  printing,  nor  crude  color 
seems  able  to  spoil  Murillo's  loveliest  creation. 

Patrick  drew  the  one  chair  in  the  room  over 
to  the  window.  The  street  was  crowded  with 
people  ;  the  crash  of  the  elevated  railroad  trains 
sounded  in  his  ears :  there  appeared  to  be  voices 


176      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

everywhere.  A  pianist,  seemingly  very  near  him, 
though  really  in  the  next  flat,  was  drumming  a 
popular  waltz.  The  electric  light  flooded  part  of 
the  street  with  a  white  glow;  the  rest  it  left  in 
greater  gloom  than  that  of  night.  He  remembered 
a  print  in  Dore's  "  Paradise  Lost  "  which  was  like 
the  street,  in  its  exaggerated  light  and  shade. 
How  could  any  man  sleep,  he  asked  himself,  in 
such  a  place  ?  This  flat  was  like  a  crevice  in  the 
wall  of  a  great  rock,  where  birds  built  nests,  one 
above  the  other.  He  could  not  imagine  this  as  a 
home,  although  he  was  impressed  by  the  wealth  of 
its  inhabitants.  Patrick  Desmond  had  not  yet 
learned  that  appearances  are  exceedingly  decep- 
tive. He  was  like  that  small  country  boy  in  the 
old-fashioned  children's  book,  who  took  the  gilding 
on  the  mirror  frames  for  real  gold. 

Miles  repelled  him,  but  no  doubt  Miles  was  the 
typical  man  of  power ;  and  Nellie's  elegance  amazed 
and  impressed  him.  She  was  a  finer  lady  evi- 
dently than  Eleanor  Redwood ;  she  had  more  airs 
and  graces ;  and  Eleanor  had  never  worn  diamonds. 
There  was  no  doubt  about  it  that,  as  a  woman  of 
the  world,  Nellie  was  the  more  elegant  of  the  two. 
He  imagined  that  Nellie,  at  Washington,  in  a 
great  assembly  of  American  statesmen,  would 
have  everybody  at  her  feet,  while  Eleanor  would 
probably  be  entirely  neglected.  But,  he  said  to 
himself,  that  Eleanor  would  be  to  him,  in  such  an 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      177 

assembly,  the  most  radiant  star  of  all,  —  only  to 
him  perhaps,  but  all  to  him.  And  then  he  re- 
minded himself  of  the  absurdity  of  thinking  of 
Eleanor  Redwood  at  all ;  he  would  probably  never 
see  her  again.  He  thought  of  his  own  compara- 
tive poverty,  and  wondered  when  he  should  be 
able  to  surround  his  mother  with  all  the  luxuries 
which  formed  part  of  the  lives  of  Miles  and  Nellie. 

He  leaned  out  of  the  window,  at  a  dizzy  height 
above  the  crowd,  and  caught  the  exhilaration  of 
the  new  atmosphere.  The  bustle  and  lights  and 
noises  affected  him  as  champagne  affects  some 
men.  Oh!  if  he  only  had  money, — if  by  some 
chance  he  could  be  placed  through  its  possession, 
through  its  power,  as  much  above  the  world  as  he 
was  now  in  reality.  For  an  instant  a  temptation 
to  envy  his  relatives  crossed  his  mind;  and  then 
he  laughed  a  little  when  he  thought  of  the  help- 
lessness of  his  mother  among  all  that  red  plush 
and  velvet ;  and  he  wondered  how  she  would  like 
her  ice  cream  in  a  paper  frill.  Eleanor  —  she 
would  come  into  his  mind  —  would  not  seem  in 
place  among  all  this  frippery ;  he  could  only  imag- 
ine her  under  the  maple  buds,  with  fresh  breezes 
around  her,  and  the  birds  of  spring  fluttering 
about. 

The  night  went  on,  and  Patrick  mused:  he 
could  not  sleep  ;  for,  although  the  noise  of  the 
crowd  grew  vaguer,  the  crash  of  the  railroad 


178      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

trains  almost  stunned  him  at  intervals.  He 
turned  down  the  gas  about  midnight,  and  shortly 
afterward  he  heard  steps  on  the  stairs.  The  par- 
lor door  opened  :  there  was  a  sound  of  impatient 
words  and  of  a  man  stumbling.  After  that  he 
heard  Nellie's  voice  in  expostulation,  then  an  im- 
precation from  Miles.  A  flash  through  the  cracks 
of  his  door  told  him  that  the  gas  in  the  parlor  had 
been  turned  up.  There  followed  another  series  of 
stumbles.  Nellie's  voice  was  raised  shrilly  and 
then  softened;  there  came  the  sound  of  a  blow, 
and  then  another. 

Patrick  started  to  his  feet  and  tried  to  pull  open 
the  door,  it  was  locked.  He  heard  Nellie  whis- 
per, "  Don't,  Miles."  He  did  not  unlock  the 
door,  for  the  thought  rushed  upon  him  that  she 
might  be  able  to  endure  her  husband's  blows,  but 
not  the  knowledge  that  a  stranger  knew  she  had 
suffered  from  them.  He  could  hear  Miles  swear, 
and  a  suppressed  sob  from  his  cousin.  He  put  his 
hand  on  the  door  and  stood,  heartsick  and  disen- 
chanted. If  this  went  on,  he  must  throw  all 
scruples  to  the  wind  and  interfere.  No  sound 
came  after  this ;  he  opened  the  door  softly.  Miles 
lay  in  a  drunken  stupor,  his  clenched  fist  extended 
toward  his  wife ;  while  she,  in  her  gay  dress,  knelt 
with  her  head  on  the  piano-stool,  her  form  shaken 
with  suppressed  sobs.  Patrick  softly  closed  the 
door,  and  knelt  down  to  say  his  prayers.  That 
night  he  did  not  sleep. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      179 
XIV. 

"Let  me  make  the  songs  of  the  people.    .    .    ." 

DESMOND  seemed  to  have  awakened  from  a 
nightmare  when  the  full  light  of  the  sun  shone 
into  his  room.  His  heart  sank  as  he  thought 
of  meeting  his  relative  and  assuming  the  duties 
of  the  day.  What  a  horrible  thing  life  in  a  great 
city  was, — so  heartless,  so  turbulent,  so  full  of 
all  evil.  After  all,  "to  stay  at  home"  was  best. 
And,  still,  perhaps  his  coming  to  New  York 
would  be  the  beginning  of  the  success  he  coveted 
with  all  his  heart;  and  perhaps,  too,  he  might  be 
the  means  of  standing  between  his  cousin  and 
the  brutality  of  her  husband.  "Her  husband!" 
He  shuddered  as  he  thought  of  it.  If  marriage 
were  what  his  mother  had  said  it  was — requir- 
ing virtue,  and  respect,  and  harmony,  and  these 
still  to  mean  sacrifice, — what  a  purgatory  it 
must  be  to  this  unfortunate  woman. 

He  said  to  himself  that  it  would  be  very  hard 
for  him  to  assume  an  air  of  unconcern  after 
what  he  had  witnessed;  and  he  practised  several 
speeches,  in  his  imagination,  to  show  that  he  was 
entirely  at  ease. 

A  knock  at  his  door  was  followed  by  a  voice 
announcing  that  breakfast  was  ready.  In  ten 
minutes  Patrick  entered  the  parlor,  and  was 


180      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

taken  through  two  small  bedrooms  into  the  din- 
ing-room. Nellie  and  little  Hiley  were  there. 
Miley  looked  at  the  guest  with  a  curved  lip  and 
battle  in  his  eyes;  but  probably  the  remembrance 
of  the  candy  of  the  night  before  tended  to  soften 
him.  He  did  not  add  to  the  terrors  of  Patrick's 
position  by  making  any  hostile  demonstration. 
The  guest  took  the  seat  pointed  out  to  him. 
With  an  effort  he  raised  his  eyes  to  Nellie's  face. 
He  was  shocked  to  find  that  she  seemed  entirely 
unconcerned;  her  "bang"  was  as  much  frizzled 
as  ever,  she  wore  an  artificial  smile,  and  her 
morning-gown  was  brilliant  in  color.  She  cut 
open  a  large  grape  fruit  and  gave  him  half  of  it. 

"You  will  find  this  a  good  appetizer,  though  I 
guess  you  people  from  the  country  generally  have 
good  appetites.  Mr.  Galligan  is  not  up  yet;  he 
was  out  last  night  so  late  that  I  hated  to  disturb 
him  this  morning;  he  often  sleeps  until  twelve 
o'clock.  There  is  nothing  like  responsibility  to 
make  a  man  sleep,  and  my  poor  husband  is  so 
worried  by  politics.  I  often  wonder  how  he 
lives." 

Desmond  asked  himself  if  he  could  be  dream- 
ing. Was  it  possible  that  any  woman  could  so 
conceal  her  feelings?  Was  she  callous?  Or  was 
it  an  overmastering  desire  to  save  her  husband 
from  reproach  that  made  her  talk  in  this  way? 
He  could  not  understand  it.  She  could  not  avoid 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      181 

thinking  that  he  might  have  heard  the  disturb- 
ance of  the  night  before.  Later,  when  he  under- 
stood better  the  conditions  under  which  she  had 
spent  her  earlier  days-,  he  was  able  to  gauge  her 
feelings  very  accurately. 

Desmond  had  neither  the  tact  nor  the  expe- 
rience necessary  to  the  carrying  on  of  a  conversa- 
tion with  anybody  who  seemed  to  him  to  be 
playing  a  part.  In  fact,  the  state  of  mind  of  the 
woman  who  could  play  a  part  was  a  great  puzzle 
to  him.  In  truth,  if  the  success  he  longed  for 
should  depend  on  dissimulation,  he  could  never 
gain  it.  He  was  incapable  of  appearing  even  for 
a  moment  what  he  was  not;  and  when  Nellie 
broke  into  praise  of  Miles  and  his  admirable 
qualities  both  as  a  statesman  and  a  private  citizen, 
Patrick  was  obstinately  silent.  But  Nellie  did 
not  mind  this  much;  it  convinced  her  that  he 
probably  suspected  that  Miles  was  not  in  a  fit 
condition  to  appear  at  breakfast;  so  she  changed 
the  subject,  wisely  considering  that  in  a  short 
time — after  he  had  attained  greater  knowledge 
of  political  and  social  life  at  the  Grand  Windsor — 
there  would  be  no  necessity  for  subterfuges  on 
her  part.  But  at  present,  as  she  admitted  to 
herself,  Patrick  was  "green"  and  needed  to  be 
treated  as  a  tender  plant  in  the  early  stage  of  its 
existence.  As  for  him,  his  heart  was  bursting 
with  pity  for  her.  Even  little  Miley,  coated  with 


182      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

bread  and  milk,  had  a  halo  of  pathos  about  him, 
in  Patrick's  eyes. 

If  Nellie  could  have  guessed  what  was  in  her 
cousin's  mind,  she  would  have  been  both  aston- 
ished and  offended.  If  Miles  the  elder  had  dared 
to  strike  Miles  the  younger  Nellie  would  have 
behaved  like  a  tigress;  and,  therefore,  she  would 
have  keenly  resented  any  pity  bestowred  on  the 
child;  she  could  take  care  of  him.  She  would 
have  as  keenly  resented  any  sympathy  for  herself; 
she  had  lived  too  long  in  the  atmosphere  of  The 
Anchor  not  to  have  come  to  believe  that  a  blow 
or  two  from  a  husband  was  one  of  the  risks  of 
matrimony.  To  her  it  did  not  mean  degrada- 
tion; it  meant  unpleasantness  and  pain  for  the 
moment.  According  to  Nellie's  code — the  code 
of  The  Anchor, — a  wife  might  hit  back  at  her 
husband  if  he  struck  her  when  he  wras  sober;  but 
to  strike  a  drunken  man  was  a  cruelty  unheard 
of.  And  to  Nellie,  who,  from  observation,  had 
known  that  the  matrimonial  state  was  full  of 
risks,  the  horror,  the  contempt,  the  despondency, 
which  the  scene  of  the  night  before  had  aroused 
in  Desmond,  would  have  been  incomprehensible. 
During  the  night  he  had  half-resolved  to  flee  from 
the  place;  but  Miles'  promise  had  occurred  to 
him,  and  he  said  to  himself  that  perhaps  he  had 
been  specially  called  to  New  York  to  act  as  his 
cousin's  champion.  Nellie's  artificial  smile,  and 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      183 

her  brisk,  self-satisfied  manner  put  the  champion 
suggestion  to  flight  at  once.  Desmond  looked  at 
little  Miley,  and  thought  of  the  child's  fate,  with 
his  father's  example  before  him.  He  had  no 
appetite.  Nellie  urged  him  to  eat,  but  he  could 
not. 

"My  husband,"  she  said,  confidentially,  "sel- 
dom has  time  to  write  a  letter,  and  I  guess  you'll 
find  a  great  bundle;  but  you  need  not  answer 
them  all.  To-night  you  will  go  down  town  with 
me,  to  Lize  Smith's  party.  I  have  to  go  for  Miles' 
sake,  and  you'll  have  to  be  polite  to  everybody; 
but  it's  not  the  sphere  in  which  I  generally  move. 
I  am  much  more  at  home  at  my  sister-in-law's — 
Mrs.  Arthur  Fitzgerald's, — where  you  really  meet 
the  best  people.  In  politics,  a  woman  has  to  do  a 
great  deal  she  doesn't  want  to  do;  and  if  I  don't 
go  to  Lize  Smith's,  folks  will  say  that  I  am  'stuck 
up,'  and  that  will  lose  Miles  some  votes,  you 
know." 

Desmond  did  not  know,  and  he  did  not  care. 
How  could  this  woman  prattle  on  in  this  way, 
after  the  tragedy  of  the  night  before? 

"Of  course,  it's  part  of  your  duty  to  go  with 
me,  or  else  I  shouldn't  ask  you.  I  must  say  that 
Lize  is  a  good  sort  of  girl — a  little  bad  tempered, 
but  good-hearted.  We  were  formerly  very  inti- 
mate— we  met  very  often  in  one  of  the  largest 
drygoods  shops  in  this  city, — and  sometimes  she 


184      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

presumes  a  little  on  her  former  acquaintance  with 
me.  I  have  gone  up  in  the  world,  Patrick  Des- 
mond, and  I  ain't  ashamed  of  it." 

She  dropped  her  artificial  smile  as  she  uttered 
these  words,  and  spoke  in  a  tone  of  offence. 
Desmond  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 

"I  say  I  ain't  ashamed  of  it;  and  when  you 
have  the  same  advantages  and  social  standing  as 
we  have,  I  hope  you  won't  be  ashamed  of  it." 

Desmond  promised  that  he  would  not  be 
ashamed  of  it, — not,  however,  knowing  very  well 
what  "it"  referred  to. 

"You'll  see  something  of  city  life,"  said  Nellie, 
patronizingly;  "and  that  will  be  an  advantage, 
even  if  it's  not  the  long-tong  or  the  four  hundred. 
There  are  many  nice  people  who  are  not  of  the 
four  hundred,"  continued  Nellie,  aggressively; 
"although  you  country  people  get  the  idea  that 
the  four  hundred  are  the  best  people  in  New 
York.  It's  nonsense!  There's  a  gent  and  lady 
on  the  first  floor  that  wear  diamonds  larger  than 
anybody  in  the  four  hundred  ever  wore." 

"If  you  don't  mind,"  said  Desmond,  "I'll  begin 
work." 

But  Nellie  was  in  the  mood  for  talking.  It  was 
not  often  that  she  had  the  pleasure  of  patronizing 
a  rustic  from  the  provinces. 

"You'll  see  how  people  live  in  the  tenement 
houses.  My  brother-in-law,  John  Longworthy, 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      185 

has  written  a  book  called  'Poverty  and  Sin,'  or 
some  such  trash;  and  it  has  turned  everybody 
against  him." 

"Do  you  know  him  ?"  asked  Patrick,  interested. 

"Of  course  I  do.  He  married  Miley's  sister; 
and  a  more  stuck-up  and  putting-on-airs  kind  of 
people  I  don't  want  to  see  than  he  and  his  wife 
are.  That  Esther — Miley's  sister — can  say  things 
that  would  make  your  blood  run  cold;  and  she's 
the  kind  that  makes  you  so  mad  that  you  can't 
think  of  anything  nasty  to  say  until  it  is  too  late. 
Now  Mary — that's  Arthur  Fitzgerald's  wife — is 
different.  She's  a  soft  kind  of  a  fool,  with  no 
style  about  her," — Nellie  assumed  her  artificial 
smile  to  show  the  difference.  "But  she's  fond  of 
Miles,  who  was  always  the  best  of  brothers  to  her, 
— though  sometimes  her  husband  makes  her  for- 
get that,  and  then  she's  ungrateful.  But  we  must 
expect  it  in  this  world,"  she  added  with  a  sigh. 

Again  Desmond  did  not  attempt  to  search  for 
the  antecedent  of  the  "it;"  he  was  interested  in 
John  Longworthy's  book,  with  which  the  press  of 
the  whole  country  had  been  busy. 

"And  you  really  know  John  Longworthy?" 
said  Patrick,  with  the  innocent  enthusiasm — alas, 
so  short-lived! — of  the  hero- worshipper.  "What 
a  terrible  book  he  has  written  about  tenement- 
house  life  in  New  York.  Is  it  true?" 

"True!"  exclaimed  Nellie,  becoming  suddenly 


186      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

very  indignant  and  natural.  "It's  true  enough 
that  there  is  a  mixed  crowd  in  tenement  houses. 
And  I  am  not  going  to  deny  that  there  is  a  good 
deal  of  beer-drinking  going  on,  and  that  the  girls 
do  care  a  great  deal  for  picnics  and  speelin'  and 
good  clothes;  but  who  doesn't?  Why,  I  was  born 
in  a  tenement  house,"  she  said,  clinching  the 
argument,  "and  I  am  none  the  worse  for  it.  I  am 
a  lady  in  every  sense,  I  hope.  And  there  is  as 
much  fun  and  enjoyment  in  tenement  houses  as 
you'd  find  anywhere.  And  why  shouldn't  girls 
like  to  dance?  I  could  die  speelin'  myself." 

After  a  pause  the  young  man  humbly  asked 
what  "speelin' "  was. 

"Oh!"  Nellie  answered,  pitying,  "it's  a  kind 
of  waltz;  but  John  Longworthy  talks  about  it  in 
his  book  as  if  it  were  murder.  When  I  read  about 
the  book  in  The  Sun,  I  says  to  Miles,  'The  man's 
an  upstart.'  And  I  says,  'If  it  gets  out  that  he's 
your  brother-in-law,  you'll  lose  votes  among  the 
people  you  depend  on.'  And  so  we  never  speak 
of  him.  It's  hard  to  be  ashamed  of  your  own 
brother-in-law.  He  lived  in  the  Bowery  under  an 
assumed  name,  and  got  the  material  for  his  book 
under  false  pretenses.  It's  a  painful  subject, — 
we  never  speak  of  it." 

Patrick,  anxious  to  avoid  further  reference  to 
so  painful  a  subject,  proposed  to  go  to  work,  and 
Nellie  showed  him  a  desk  in  the  corner  of  the 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      187 

parlor.  With  some  assistance  from  her,  he  an- 
swered several  letters.  It  was  not  a  hard  task, 
for  Nellie  enjoyed  dictating  to  him;  and  he  could 
not  help  being  impressed  by  her  common-sense, 
and  even  a  certain  tact,  which  was  not,  however, 
embarrassed  by  a  great  reverence  for  the  truth. 

The  morning  wore  on.  Patrick  wrote  quickly, 
annoyed  by  the  noise  of  the  street,  and  yet  curious 
about  it.  He  was  sometimes  amused,  sometimes 
depressed  by  Nellie's  directions;  and  he  stopped 
once  and  remonstrated,  when  she  made  Miles 
promise,  by  letter,  to  grant  the  same  favor  to  two 
different  persons. 

"Go  on,"  she  said,  "you're  paid  to  write  let- 
ters, not  to  think.  It  has  to  be  done;  it's  politics." 

At  noon  Miles  appeared  with  a  swollen  face 
and  sullen  eyes.  He  gradually  became  good- 
humored,  and  signified  his  approval  of  Patrick's 
handwriting. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do.  I'll  put  you  behind 
a  pair  of  the  best-up  bays  on  the  road — Jeff 
Rowley  at  the  livery-stable  rents  them  to  me, — 
and  drive  you  out  the  Mount  St.  Vincent's  road." 

Patrick  thanked  him,  and  said  he  had  not 
much  interest  in  fast  driving;  but  that  he  would 
take  a  stroll  on  Broadway  in  the  afternoon,  if 
Miles  would  tell  him  how  to  get  there.  However, 
it  turned  out  that  there  were  so  many  letters  to 
answer  that  a  stroll  was  out  of  the  question. 


188      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  Miles  disappeared.  At 
dinner  Nellie  wore  a  splendid  heliotrope-colored 
dress,  with  a  very  high  collar  and  a  long  train 

"I  usually  wear  a  low  neck  when  I  go  into 
society,  but  the  people  at  Lize  Smith's  wouldn't 
understand  it,"  she  said.  And  Patrick  was  just 
as  much  puzzled  by  the  "low  neck"  as  he  had 
been  by  many  other  allusions  during  the  day,  so 
he  let  it  pass.  It  tired  him  to  ask  questions  and 
to  receive  unintelligible  answers  in  Bowery  slang. 

Later,  when  little  Miley  had  been  tucked 
away, — Patrick  was  called  to  see  how  pretty  he 
looked  when  asleep, — it  was  time  to  go  to  the 
Smith  assembly.  Nellie  was  very  thoughtful  on  her 
way  down  town.  She  carried  a  roll  of  music  and 
a  large  purple  fan.  She  spoke  little;  occasionally 
she  hummed  a  tune,  and  when  she  observed  that 
Desmond  noticed  it  she  said:  "Excuse  me,  I 
may  be  asked  to  sing  tonight,  and  I'm  afraid  I'll 
forget  the  key." 

In  reality,  she  was  considering  how  best  to 
crush  Lize  Smith  with  magnificent  condescension. 
She  knew  that  she  would  be  the  observed  of  all 
observers;  she  expected  that  veiled  sarcasms 
would  be  directed  at  her.  She  felt  that  Lize 
Smith  could  not  but  compare  the  two  positions  in 
life;  and  that  the  elegance  of  her  heliotrope 
gown,  and  the  cultivated  accents  in  which  Pro- 
fessor Portescue  had  taught  her  to  warble,  would 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      189 

f 

fill  Lize  with  uncontrollable  envy.  Still,  she 
sighed  as  she  thought  of  the  old  life.  Miles  was 
in  the  Assembly,  and  all  that;  and  yet — but 
after  all,  she  said  to  herself,  he  was  better  than 
Jim  Smith,  whom  she  might  have  married  if  she 
had  wanted  to.  She  had  some  doubts  about  the 
propriety  of  taking  Desmond  'with  her;  she  re- 
flected, however,  that  he  must  meet  her  mother 
sooner  or  later  in  the  tenement  house  called  The 
Anchor;  and  no  doubt  the  Smiths'  way  of  living 
was  as  fine  as  anything  he  had  known  at  home. 

When  they  descended  from  the  elevated  rail- 
way car,  Nellie  seized  her  train  with  a  grace  that 
extorted  an  admiring  whistle  from  the  newsboy 
at  the  bottom  of  the  steps,  and  asked  Patrick  to 
hold  the  fan  and  the  roll  of  music.  Thus  bur- 
dened, he  followed  her  through  various  streets, 
dark,  dirty  and  bordered  with  empty  carts.  The 
sidewalks  were  crowded  with  children  of  all  ages, 
jumping  up  on  the  carts,  rushing  hither  and 
thither,  screaming,  yelling,  crying,  laughing. 

The  houses  were  so  high  and  the  space  seemed 
so  narrow  between  them,  that  Desmond's  lungs 
refused  to  do  their  work.  His  chest  was  op- 
pressed, and  he  fancied  for  a  moment  that  he 
should  stifle.  He  looked  up  at  the  fire  escapes, 
loaded  with  fluttering  carpets  and  odds  and  ends 
of  all  kind,  above  which  showed  an  occasional 
human  head.  How  soft,  how  sweet,  how  full  of 


190      THE  SUCGESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

fresh  odors,  was  the  twilight  on  the  river  bank  at 
Redwood  at  this  hour.  How  sordid,  how  wretched, 
how  appalling,  it  was  here. 

The  figures  on  the  doorsteps — carelessly  clad 
women  nursing  their  babies,  old  women  with 
pipes  in  their  mouths,  the  Polish- Jewish  widow 
with  her  dingy  wig, — the  Chinese,  gliding  along 
on  his  cork  soles,  the  children  going  in  and  out 
with  their  tin  cans  of  beer,  the  oaths,  the  out- 
cries, the  swarming  life  everywhere,  opened  a  new 
vista  to  Patrick  Desmond.  It  was  only  a  glimpse, 
but  it  horrified  him  more  than  all  his  later  knowl- 
edge of  this  life  had  power  to  horrify  him.  They 
went  through  many  streets.  Nellie's  fine  wrap 
and  gown  attracted  no  attention;  for  in  these 
districts  finery  was  not  unusual,  but  it  was  gen- 
erally reserved  for  Sundays. 

"Do  these  poor  children  live  here  always?" 
asked  Desmond,  as  they  passed  through  a  group 
of  little  ones  of  all  sizes  and  nationalities,  some 
so  pretty  that  the  dust  and  stain  of  a  long  day 
had  not  spoiled  them. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Nellie,  sharply.  "Better 
people  than  you  live  here." 

"But  the  children,"  said  Patrick, — "but  the 
children!  O  God!" 

Nellie  turned  abruptly.  "I  want  you  to  know, 
Mr.  Desmond,  that  I'm  a  lady, — I  don't  permit 
swearing  in  my  presence." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND-      191 

Patrick  did  not  hear;  she  seemed  very  trivial 
in  the  presence  of  this  phase  of  life.  He  shud- 
dered, and  an  almost  intolerable  feeling  of  home- 
sickness came  upon  him. 

After  a  time,  varied  by  several  slight  collisions, 
in  which  Nellie  raised  her  voice  in  tones  that 
commanded  respect,  they  reached  the  front  of  the 
tenement  house  occupied  by  the  Smiths.  The 
third  story  of  this  house  was  brilliantly  illumi- 
nated ;  the  doorstep  and  the  sidewalk  were  fringed 
by  groups  of  children. 

"Oh!  my,"  they  cried  in  chorus,  as  Nellie 
approached;  and  one  shrill  voice  called  out, 
"Ain't  she  a  dandy?" 

An  old  woman,  with  a  pipe  in  her  mouth,  lean- 
ing against  the  inevitable  cart,  exclaimed :  "  'Tis 
Nellie  Mulligan,  as  I  live!" 

Upon  this  several  urchins,  who  were  perched 
on  the  cart  behind  the  old  lady,  struck  up  the 
Mulligan  Guards,  an  ancient  but  still  popular 
song  in  the  district. 

Desmond  preceded  Nellie  up  the  dark  stair- 
case. He  was  told  to  knock  at  a  door  which 
seemed  to  hide  much  hilarity  from  the  outer 
world;  for  the  tuning  of  fiddles  and  snatches  of 
laughter  came  from  between  the  cracks. 

Lize  Smith,  nee  Brown,  opened  the  door.  Time 
had  further  indented  her  brow  and  made  her  fret- 
ful expression  more  distinct.  Nevertheless,  she 


192       THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

wore  a  Psyche  knot,  large  puffed  sleeves,  and 
half  a  dozen  jingling  bangles  at  her  wrists.  She 
clasped  Nellie  to  her  heart  in  rapture. 

"Only  a  few  friends,"  she  said,  taking  in  Nellie's 
costume  with  an  eagle  eye;  "only  a  few  friends 
to  celebrate  our  good  luck."  And  she  kissed  Nel- 
lie rapturously.  "Jim's  uncle  died  the  other  day, 
and  left  him  the  best  grocery  store  at  far  Rock- 
awTay." 

"How  lucky!"  exclaimed  Nellie.  "I  was  afraid 
he'd  never  get  anything  to  do.  A  few  friends?'' 
she  said,  turning  gracefully.  "A  great  many 
friends  I  should  say.  Now,"  she  whispered,  giv- 
ing way  to  her  fatal  propensity  to  patronage, 
"don't  introduce  me  to  everybody;  we  must  draw 
the  line — '' 

"You  know  everybody  already,"  snapped  Lize. 
"There's  Birdie  Branagan — don't  you  remember 
him?  He  took  my  white  satin  shoes  to  you  the 
night  you  went  to  the  Lady  Rosebuds  with  Miley. 
Birdie,  here's  Nellie  Mulligan  that  was." 

There  was  a  titter  from  the  row  of  chairs 
around  the  walls.  Birdie,  who  was  a  youth  of  six 
feet  at  least,  with  square  shoulders,  a  cropped 
head,  a  mouth  as  hard  as  flint,  and  like  a  straight 
line  drawn  above  an  equally  hard,  square  chin, 
raised  himself,  accordion  in  hand,  and  said: 

"Halloo,  Nell!  When's  Miley  gom'  to  give  de 
May  picnic?" 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      193 
• 

Birdie,  as  he  stood  up,  was  a  turbulent-looking 
creature.  His  pilot-jacket  was  drawn  in  wrinkles 
about  his  waist;  he  wore  a  blue  shirt,  and  his 
legs  were  encased  in  very  light  trousers,  with  a 
large  swelling  on  each  knee.  Nellie  turned  to 
the  other  guest,  and  Birdie  sat  down. 

"See!"  he  said,  "I'm  de  champeen  accordeen 
player  on  Cherry  Hill,  and  de  crow  won't  notice 
me.  See! 

"Birdie  recites  beautiful  now,"  Lize  whispered. 
"He -takes  lesons  from  Professor  Macgeoghegan ; 
he  thinks  Professor  Fortescue  too  common." 

Nellie  tosed  her  head  and  presented  Desmond, 
who  took,  as  soon  as  he  could,  a  chair  in  the 
remotest  corner.  The  room  was  filled  with 
young  men  and  women;  the  young  men  wearing 
very  high  collars  or  no  collars  at  all,  all  with 
cropped  heads  and  a  general  air  of  swagger. 
The  young  women  were  dressed  in  gowns  made 
in  imitation  of  the  reigning  fashion,  except 
Katie  Grogan,  who,  owing  to  financial  difficulties, 
was  attired  in  a  very  light  summer  gown  and  an 
old  fur  cape.  The  truth  was,  that  her  husband, 
who  was  the  life  of  the  company,  full  of  the  most 
delicious  jokes,  had  spent  her  earnings  for  several 
weeks  at  the  races.  Katie,  who  had  a  bright  face, 
but  a  hectic  color,  was  determined  to  enjoy  her- 
self, and  had  secured  a  night  off  from  the  arduous 
task  of  playing  in  a  dime  museum. 


194      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Desmond,  from  his  corner,  viewed  the  assembly 
with  a  heavy  heart.  He  had  not  much  sense  of 
humor,  and  he  could  see  only  the  squalid  side  of 
these  people's  lives.  He  knew  little  about  them 
as  yet ;  but  the  commonness  of  their  atmosphere 
depressed  him.  What  shrill  laughter,  what 
curious  slang,  what  coarseness  of  manner.  And 
these  —  he  judged  from  their  names  —  had  sprung 
from  the  same  race  as  his  father  and  mother.  The 
best  quality  he  saw  in  any  of  these  men  seemed 
to  be  a  certain  animal  good  nature.  But  in  all 
Redwood  there  was  no  brute  like  the  champion 
player  of  the  accordion ;  he  seemed  to  be  as  near 
to  a  bulldog  as  any  human  creature  could  be. 
What  had  brought  these  people  to  this  depth,  and 
how  was  it  to  be  remedied  ?  He  himself  was  no 
richer,  not  -  much  better  educated  perhaps  than 
these  fellows ;  but  he  shuddered  at  the  thought  of 
being  of  them. 

Nellie  passed  through  the  two  rooms,  took  off 
her  bonnet,  and  made  greetings  with  graceful 
condescension.  Amid  applause,  Jim  Smith  rolled 
a  keg  of  beer  through  the  two  rooms  into  the 
kitchen ;  the  three  Italians  in  the  back-room 
tuned  their  musical  instruments.  Lize  Smith 
announced,  with  a  giggle,  that  Mrs.  Miles  Galligan 
would  sing.  Mrs.  Miles  refused  ;  Lize  insisted  ; 
Birdie  Branagan,  in  his  playful  way,  tried  to  lift 
her  from  her  chair,  while  Patrick  grew  hot  with 
indignation. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK   DESMOND.      195 

Nellie  yielded  at  last.  She  borrowed  a  lemon 
drop  and  coughed  several  times.  Then  she  took 
her  position  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  unrolled 
the  sheet  of  music  with  much  crackling,  and  said 
sweetly  to  the  accordion  champion  :  "  Give  me  a 
minor  key."  The  champion  dashed  into  "  Annie 
Rooney."  There  was  a  general  protest :  it  was 
low.  "  Maggie  Murphy's  Home  "  or  "  Comrades  " 
might  do,  but  nothing  common.  Again  Nellie 
demanded  a  minor  key,  with  a  look  of  haughty 
reproach ;  then  she  kicked  her  train  with  her 
left  foot,  adjusted  a  hairpin,  and,  as  the  accordion 
uttered  a  squeak,  began  : 

"  Only  a  violet,  dawling." 

It  was  a  triumph  ;  she  ended  with  her  hand  on 
her  heart,  and  these  words : 

"  Only  a  violet,  dawling, — 

On-lee  thy  pickchewer  true ; 
Only  a  photograph,  swee-e-e-e-test, 
Is  ahl  I  have  9!  you-oo-oo !  " 

Called  out  a  second  time,  she  borrowed  a 
photograph  from  Lize's  album,  and  pressed  it  to 
her  heart  with  pathos.  One  could  have  heard  a 
pin  drop  as  her  voice  rose  high  on  the  "  oo  " —  if 
one  could  have  heard  anything ;  and  Jim  Smith 
said  sternly  that  there  ought  not  to  be  a  dry  eye 
in  the  room. 


196      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 


XV. 


What  teaching  have  I  had?  What  did  my  mother  tell  me? 
That  one  must  be  rich  to  he  happy.  What  did  the  world  teach 
me  ?  That  one  must  be  rich  to  be  respected.  —  Les  Lionnes 
Pauvres. 


THE  Fly-Away  Mines  were  known  to  have  paid 
good  dividends  on  the  money  invested,  and  Judge 
Redwood  was  a  large  stockholder  in  them.  Elea- 
nor had  often  sighed  over  the  Judge's  connection 
with  them.  Her  mother's  words,  rankling  in  her 
soul,  had  made  her  see  all  her  father's  business 
doings  through  a  lurid  atmosphere.  It  was  not 
easy  for  a  girl  like  Eleanor  Redwood  to  realize 
what  poverty  meant,  and  every  day  of  her  life  she 
wished  that  she  and  her  father  were  absolutely 
poor,  so  that  the  shadow  of  the  mystery  at  which 
her  mother  had  hinted  might  lift  itself.  To 
Eleanor's  mind,  a  straight  line  was  not  only  the 
shortest  distance  from  one  point  to  another,  but 
the  easiest  to  find  and  to  keep. 

Judge  Redwood  had  recently  mortgaged  all  his 
property  in  Redwood  to  augment  his  interest  in 
the  mines.  These  mines  were  small,  easily  worked 
and  near  Eaglescliff.  They  made  a  dark  stain  in 
a  very  pretty  country.  They  were  surrounded  by 
a  chain  of  small  lakes.  There  were  experts  who 
declared  that  the  Fly-Away  Mines  were  in  con- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      197 

utant  danger  of  being  flooded ;  but  Judge  Redwood 
laughed,  and  said  he  was  willing  to  take  the  risk. 
He  had  as  much  confidence  in  those  mines  as  any 
British  magnate  has  in  the  Bank  of  England. 
What  had  the  chain  of  lakes  to  do  with  the  mines  ? 
Lakes  were  one  thing  and  a  coal  deposit  another. 
It  was  only  in  worn-out  mines  that  an  accidental 
mistake  ever  brought  a  flood  of  water  in  upon  the 
precious  black  diamonds ;  and  these  Fly-Away 
Mines  had  as  yet  been  scarcely  worked  at  all. 
Harry  Bayard,  who  had  the  reputation  of  being 
something  of  an  expert,  said  disparaging  things 
about  the  mines  ;  but,  then,  Bayard  was  a  notori- 
ous snarler. 

Judge  Redwood  had  not  received  his  summons 
to  Eaglescliff  as  a  really  unpleasant  thing.  He 
had  a  case  in  court  there,  or  he  would  probably 
have  refused  to  take  much  notice  of  the  message  : 
"  Trouble  in  the  mines." 

"  Trouble  !  "  he  said  to  himself.  "  Of  course 
there  will  always  be  trouble  in  any  great  under- 
taking." And  so,  as  he  went  to  Eaglescliff,  his 
real  annoyance  centred  around  the  discovery  that 
Mrs.  Bayard  had  seen  that  unfortunate  letter  of 
his  dead  wife.  "  Ah !  well,"  he  said,  "  I  am  glad 
that  Eleanor  will  never  see  it.  She  would  not 
understand  ;  it  would  upset  her.  It  would  be  a 
terrible  thing  for  me  to  tell  her  that  her  mother 
was  insane  at  any  time." 


198      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

A  little  later  he  met  an  acquaintance,  and  he  did 
not  find  out  that  in  his  haste  he  had  forgotten  the 
unhappy  slip  of  paper  ;  if  he  had  suspected  that  it 
was  already  in  his  daughter's  possession,  he  would 
have  written  to  her  before  transacting  any  business 
whatever. 

The  Judge  found  Harry  Bayard  on  the  ground. 
He  had  been  sent  for  by  some  of  the  other  stock- 
holders. 

"  A  little  trouble,  Bayard  ?  "  he  said. 

"  A  great  deal,  Judge,"  Bayard  had  answered. 
"  The  rats  are  leaving  the  mines,  and  the  miners 
are  leaving  with  them.  There's  going  to  be  a 
cave  in  somewhere." 

The  Judge  laughed.  "  What  superstitious 
creatures  these  miners  are  !  What  have  rats  to  do 
with  a  '  cave  in '  ?  " 

"  The  miners  think  they  have  a  great  deal.  No 
miner  will  stay  where  a  rat  will  not  stay,"  said 
Bayard.  "  I  have  been  sent  for  to  look  into  the 
thing.  I  am  afraid  there  is  going  to  be  trouble." 

The  Judge  shook  his  head,  still  smiling.  "If 
you  found  your  opinion  on  the  rats,  Mr.  Bayard," 
he  observed,  "  I  hardly  think  I  shall  annoy  my- 
self. And,  besides,  I  fancy  we  had  better  send  to 
New  York  for  an  expert,  so  that  these  silly  rumors 
may  be  dissipated  at  once." 

Bayard's  face  assumed  a  hue  which  made  its 
sallowness  look  green.  "  The  old  man  is  a  fool !  " 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        199 

he  said  to  himself ;  and  then  aloud :  "  But  you 
can  see  for  yourself  that  the  miners  will  not 
work." 

This  was  true  :  the  miners  were  all  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  earth,  and  neither  threats  nor  persua- 
sions would  induce  them  to  descend  again.  Every 
rat  in  the  mines  seemed  1to  have  gone,  too ;  and 
the  miners,  who  had  no  other  reason  for  their 
panic  than  the  disappearance  of  the  rodents,  stub- 
bornly resisted  the  threats  and  entreaties  of  the 
Judge. 

"I  hate  the  sight  of  a  rat  when  I  am  in  day- 
light, Judge,"  said  an  old  miner ;  "  but  a  rat  down 
below  is  the  miner's  best  friend.  And,  if  you 
wait,  you'll  see  that  there  is  no  mistake  about  it." 

The  Judge  was  in  despair;  everybody  seemed 
possessed  of  a  mania,  and  he  lost  his  temper  when 
Bayard's  report  confirmed  the  general  opinion. 
Late  in  the  night  an  ominous  rumbling  was  heard ; 
and  it  became  evident  that  the  rats  were  right, 
and  that  the  miners  had  not  pinned  their  faith  to 
them  in  vain.  The  partition  of  rock  between  the 
mines  and  the  largest  lake  had  given  way.  The 
flood  rushed,  and  Judge  Redwood  was  obliged  to 
face  the  truth :  he  was  ruined. 

Sitting  alone  in  his  hotel,  after  an  interview 
with  Bayard,  he  acknowledged  to  himself  that  he 
was  not  only  ruined,  but  irretrievably  ruined.  At 
his  time  of  life  there  was  no  going  upward  ;  a  man 


200      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

might  make  a  new  start  at  forty,  but  at  sixty  it 
was  impossible.  And  the  worst  of  it  was  the  fear 
that  Eleanor  would  accept  the  fact  bravely  only 
because  she  could  not  realize  what  it  meant.  It 
is  an  easy  thing  for  a  king,  with  crown  and  sceptre, 
to  wish  that  he  were  of  the  crowd  beneath  him, 
unfettered  by  etiquette  and  ceremonies  ;  but  a  hard 
thing  when  the  crown  and  sceptre  are  taken,  and 
he  finds  himself  struggling  for  life  among  the 
masses  whose  freedom  he  pensively  envied.  The 
princess  is  willing  enough  to  become  a  pauper, 
because,  in  her  case,  she  does  not  see  why  the 
paupers  cannot  eat  cakes  if  they  have  no  bread. 
The  Judge,  as  he  sat  in  his  room  in  the  Eaglescliff 
hotel,  could  not  help  feeling  that  this  would  be 
Eleanor's  state  of  mind.  He  had  no  fear  that  she 
would  complain :  he  felt  that  she  would  be  de- 
lighted at  the  prospect  of  sharing  poverty  with 
him.  She  would  throw  her  arms  around  his  neck 
and  say,  in  the  words  of  Mignon's  song,  of  which 
she  was  so  fond  : 

"  There,  there,  with  thee, 
O  father,  would  I  dwell !  " 

His  heart  sank  when  he  thought  of  what  might 
come  after.  He  had  shielded  her  from  every 
wind ;  she  had  been  as  happy  as  he  could  make 
her;  she  had  never  been  extravagant  in  her  de- 
mands :  had  she  been,  he,  like  most  American 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      201 

fathers  with  an  only  daughter,  would  probably 
have  granted  them.  And  now  she  would  have  to 
meet  the  cold,  stern  world ;  he  could  protect  her 
but  little  from  it,  and  a  time  might  soon  come 
when  he  could  not  protect  her  at  all.  He  shud- 
dered at  the  thought.  What  could  be  more 
terrible  than  the  position  of  a  girl,  absolutely 
dependent  on  the  work  of  her  own  hands,  left 
alone  in  the  world  ?  His  heart  became  sick  at  the 
prospect.  At  sixty  he  could  not  strive  for  her  as 
he  could  once  have  striven.  Younger  men  had 
taken  his  place.  He  had  imagined  that  his  road 
to  the  grave  would  be  a  smooth  one;  he  had 
trusted  in  himself,  and  he  found  that  he  was  only 
a  poor,  mistaken  fool,  after  all.  What  had  he  to 
live  for  now  ?  In  Redwood  he  would  soon  be  the 
"  poor  old  Judge."  He  knew  his  affairs  well ;  he 
was  aware  that,  to  carry  on  this  experiment  with 
the  mines  —  which  had  not  appeared  to  him  in  the 
light  of  an  experiment  until  it  failed,  —  he  had 
put  it  in  the  power  of  his  creditors  to  seize  on  the 
very  roof  that  sheltered  Eleanor. 

His  memory,  his  sense  of  the  present,  seemed 
to  fail  him  at  this  thought.  He  dozed  or  swooned, 
he  could  not  tell  which,  and  then  came  to  his 
senses  with  a  dull  pain  in  his  head.  The  streets 
of  the  little  town  were  full  of  people,  though  it 
was  late  at  night.  The  Judge  could  hear  their 
tramp  on  the  sidewalk  and  the  sound  of  talking. 


202      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

The  disaster  to  the  mines  had  stirred  all  the  sur- 
rounding country.  The  Judge  wondered  whether 
there  were  anybody  in  that  crowd  who  was  sixty 
years  old  and  a  failure.  And  what  would  Eleanor 
say  ?  Ah !  he  knew  very  well  how  she  would 
hold  up  her  head  and  cry  out,  "We  have  our 
name,  father."  He  smiled  involuntarily,  —  ah ! 
the  dear  little  girl.  And  then  again  came  the 
crushing  sense  of  hopelessness.  What  a  wretched 
future  stretched  before  this  beloved  Eleanor  of  his. 

He  was  ruined ;  the  time  would  perhaps  come 
when  he  would  be  a  burden  on  her.  He  knew 
how  lightly  and  cheerfully  and  happily  parents 
carry  the  burden  of  their  children.  But  he  had 
seen  the  position  reversed;  and  he  had  noticed 
that  even  those  who  had  received  the  fruit  of  the 
severest  sacrifices  from  their  fathers  and  mothers, 
bore  with  mere  resignation  the  care  of  those 
parents  when  the  time  for  making  sacrifices  was 
past.  The  time  might  come  when  Eleanor  would 
—  no,  no !  he  cast  the  thought  away.  Eleanor 
was  not  like  other  people. 

He  had  often  said  that  to  live  was  happiness 
enough,  and  that  the  thought  of  death  as  a  return 
to  beneficent  Mother  Nature  was  consolation ;  he 
had  many  times  said  that  the  philosophy  of  the 
"  Thanatopsis  "  of  Bryant  was  better  to  him  than 
the  doctrine  of  any  Christian  church.  To  lie 
down  with  high  thoughts,  and  to  become  in  time 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      203 

part  of  the  beautiful  earth ;  to  glow  in  the  red  of 
the  rose  and  in  the  purple  of  the  violet  for  those 
that  were  loved  on  earth  ;  to  be  part  of  the  invis- 
ible choir  that  sings  of  health  and  hope  in  the 
woods,  —  this,  the  Judge  had  said,  was  enough 
for  him.  He  expected  no  more,  he  wanted  no 
more. 

The  test  had  come.  He  had  suddenly  become 
old  and  broken  ;  the  altruistic  prospect  of  forming 
part  of  the  rose  or  the  violet  did  not  satisfy  him 
now  :  he  wanted  rest  and  hope  and  life.  His 
heart  cried  out  against  the  dictum  he  had  made 
for  himself :  "  Thou  shall  not  live  after  death  !  " 
He  wanted  to  live  after  death,  since  life  on  earth 
was  a  failure.  Surely  he  could  not  have  been 
placed  on  earth  or  been  evolved  from  protoplasm 
merely  to  return  at  last  to  protoplasm  or  some- 
thing similar.  He  was  made  for  better  things 
than  that.  To  fail  on  earth  and  then  to  perish,  — 
no,  it  could  not  be  !  there  must  be  a  God  some- 
where, this  poor  creature  said,  because  he  needed 
a  God.  He  felt  that  he  must  go  mad  if  some  hope 
did  not  arise  for  him.  He  threw  himself  on  his 
knees  in  front  of  his  chair.  Memories  of  words 
his  wife  had  said  in  the  days  of  their  courtship, 
coupled  with  bits  out  of  the  books  she  had  made 
him  read,  floated  into  his  mind.  If  he  had  thought 
more,  if  he  had  been  less  wrapt  up  in  the  world  of 
Redwood  !  If  she  had  been  firmer  in  her  faith. 


204      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  I  believe,"  he  groaned,  —  "I  believe  !  O  God, 
give  me  hope,  give  me  consolation. " 

It  suddenly  became  plain  to  him  that  he  who 
had  talked  so  much  of  the  beauty  of  high  thought 
and  high  living  and  of  ideal  aims,  had  been  one  of 
the  grossest  of  materialists.  During  the  rest  of 
his  stay  at  Eaglescliff  he  suffered  much,  and  on 
his  way  to  the  station  he  fell  before  a  stroke  of  the 
avant-courier  of  death. 

On  the  day  after  this  disaster,  Laura  Bayard 
and  her  husband  were  sitting  on  the  balcony  of 
the  Howard  House,  —  a  balcony  which  jutted  out 
from  the  windows  of  their  room.  Laura  was 
sulky ;  her  husband  was  moody  and  dissatisfied. 

"Don't  blow  your  cigar  smoke  into  my  face," 
she  said. 

"  I  can't  help  the  wind,"  he  replied,  —  "I  can't 
help  the  wind  any  more  than  I  can  pay  your 
bills." 

"You  ought  not  to  have  married  me,  then," 
she  said,  bitterly.  "  You  know  that  I  must  hold 
my  own  in  society  here ;  if  I  can't,  what  is  there 
to  live  for  ?  If  I  had  the  money,  I'd  leave  you 
this  very  day.  I'm  tired  of  this  wretched,  pinched 
kind  of  life.  If  I  can't  dress  like  other  people,  I 
don't  want  to  live,  that's  all." 

"  There's  no  question  of  duty,  I  suppose  ? "  he 
said,  sarcastically. 

"  I  haven't  anything  to  do  with  duty.     I  want 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      205 

to  live  while  I  am  youug.  Duty !  I'd  like  to  know 
where  your  idea  of  duty  comes  in  ?  A  woman  has 
just  as  much  right  to  freedom  and  enjoyment  as 
a  man ;  and  if  I  can't  be  happy  here,  I'll  go  where 
I  can.  There's  nothing  in  this  world  worth  con- 
sidering but  money ;  it's  the  beginning  and  the 
end.  You  can't  be  happy  without  luxuries ;  I'm 
sure  you've  often  said  so  yourself." 

Bayard  sighed  and  frowned.  He  believed  this 
himself.  He  would  have  sold  his  soul  for  an 
income  which  would  have  enabled  him  to  keep 
a  pair  of  high-stepping  bays  like  Mrs.  Howard 
Sykes' ;  but  he  knew  no  way  of  doing  so  which 
would  not  mean  a  departure  from  respectability, 
and  perhaps  a  visitation  in  the  penitentiary. 
Nevertheless,  Bayard  did  not  like  to  hear  his 
wife  shamelessly  utter  words  he  himself  had 
often  spoken. 

"If  Laura  were  different,"  he  thought,  "/ 
might  be  different.  If  we  had  a  home  perhaps  —  " 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of  ?  "  asked  Laura, 
sharply.  "  There  is  no  hypocrisy  about  me. 
Everybody  really  believes  just  what  I  say  out 
frankly.  Who  thinks  of  anything  but  money  here  ? 
I  was  never  taught  to  respect  anything  else.  If 
we  were  rich,  I  am  sure  even  you  and  I,  Harry, 
could  get  on.  What  are  you  thinking  of  ?  " 

"  Oh !  nothing, "  he  said,  sullenly,  throwing  his 
cigar  away.  "  The  world's  a  snare  and  a  delusion. 


206      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

How  does  Eleanor  Redwood  take  her  downfall  ?  " 

"  Is  it  really  as  bad  as  people  say  ?  Are  the 
mines  absolutely  ruined  ?  Eleanor  will  learn  now 
to  sympathize  with  people  who  go  wrong  for  want 
of  money.  She'll  have  to  take  a  lower  step  her- 
self, if  things  are  as  bad  as  people  say." 

"  They  are  not  so  bad,"  Bayard  answered;  "  but 
the  Judge  does  not  know  it.  The  stock  has  gone 
down  to  nothing ;  all  work  in  the  mines  has  been 
stopped.  If  I  had  money  enough  —  if  I  had  any 
money,  or  could  raise  any,  —  I'd  buy  up  the  Fly- 
Away  shares,  and  wait.  It  would  pay ;  the  dam- 
age done  by  the  flood  is  only  slight  and  temporary. 
But  I  am  afraid  to  tell  anybody  ;  because  if  I 
can't  take  advantage  of  it  nobody  else  shall." 

Mrs.  Bayard  was  silent.  "Is  it  hopeless  to 
think  of  raising  money  ?  " 

"  Hopeless  !  "  he  repeated,  watching  her.  She 
did  not  speak  for  some  time.  He  whistled  with 
apparent  unconcern. 

"  The  Judge  will  die,"  she  said,  "  probably 
without  regaining  his  senses.  Eleanor  believes 
that  her  property  really  belongs  to  a  young  man 
called  Patrick  Desmond.  You  know  him  ?  " 

Bayard  nodded. 

"  As  far  as  I  can  make  out,  Desmond  is  a  fool : 
religious  and  inexperienced,  honest,  thinks  fair- 
dealing  can  be  carried  on  in  business.  He  is  as 
great  a  fool  as  Eleanor.  She  can  be  brought  to 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     207 

over  her  interest  to  him ;  and  you,  Harry, 
manipulate  him  —  become  his  partner.  The 
stock  goes  up,  through  your  exertions ;  a  half 
interest  for  you,  at  least." 

"  The  fellow  is  in  New  York,"  said  Bayard. 
"  Why  not  manage  Eleanor,  if  her  father  dies  ?  " 

"  Eleanor  has  too  many  acquaintances,  who 
would  suspect  something  wrong  the  moment  you, 
an  expert  in  these  mining  affairs  — 

"  I  understand,"  he  said.  "  You've  a  good  head, 
Laura." 

"  And  no  conscience  you  would  say,  too.  Well, 
I  am  what  the  world  has  made  me." 

He  turned  away  uneasily.  "  But  the  fellow  is 
in  New  York." 

Mrs.  Bayard  thought  for  a  moment.  "  Elaine 
is  there,"  she  said.  "  Why  not  marry  him  to  my 
sister?  He  is  a  good-natured  fool,  and  she  can 
twist  him  about  her  finger.  In  that  way  we  can 
keep  all  the  spoil  in  the  family." 

"  You  have  too  much  imagination,  Laura,"  he 
said;  still  he  considered  her  suggestion.  "Elaine 
Mrs.  Desmond,"  he  went  on  ;  "you  and  I  rich  — 
but  what  becomes  of  your  friend  Eleanor?  " 

"  I  don't  care,"  Mrs.  Bayard  answered,  in  a  hard 
voice.  "  Let  her  learn  whether  the  goodness  and 
virtue  everybody  —  including  even  you  —  admires 
will  carry  her  through  the  world." 

Bayard  did  not  answer.     His  wife  was  clever, 


208      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

he  knew ;  he  knew,  too,  that  she  had  no  scruples, 
but  he  wished  that  she  had. 

"  I  have  too  much  imagination,  have  I  ?  "  she 
asked,  bitterly.  "  But  I  am  practical  enough.  Fort- 
unately, we  are  not  hampered  by  any  absurd 
Romanist  prejudices.  If  we  do  not  succeed  in 
making  some  money,  I  must  get  a  divorce  and 
marry  a  richer  man." 

He  rose  from  his  seat  and  swore.  "  I  wish  you 
had  a  few  Romanist  prejudices,"  he  said ;  "  the 
baby  might  have  not  been  so  often  neglected." 

She  turned  red  and  bit  her  lip.  "  If  you  say 
that  again  — "  she  began,  with  a  look  of  anger  in 
her  eyes. 

"  I  shall  not  say  it  again,  since  harmony  is 
necessary  in  order  to  carry  out  our  plan.  But  I 
find  you  still  too  imaginative." 

«  Why  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  In  fancying  that  any  other  man  would  marry 
you." 

They  had  begun  to  hate  each  other  and  the 
bonds  that  bound  them ;  theirs  was  a  fair  example 
of  a  modern  marriage  without  religion.  Later 
they  elaborated  their  plan  for  the  management  of 
Patrick  Desmond. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      209 


XVI. 


At  the  dawning  of  light  it  is  grayest, 

And  the  dawning  of  Love  is  in  fear ; 
By  a  whisper  thy  heart  thou  betrayest, 

A  mist  —  and  an  angel  is  near! 
A  touch  —  and  the  clash  of  a  cymbal ! 
A  cross —  and  Love  dawns  through  Love's  symbol ! 

—  "  Les  Flours  de  la  Bontt." 


ELEANOR  REDWOOD  was  in  possession  of  all  the 
details  of  the  disaster  at  the  Fly-Away  Mines. 
Belinda  served  them  up  to  her  in  every  form  for 
a  few  days.  But,  after  the  first  shock,  they  did 
not  worry  her;  when  she  had  realized  the  fact 
that  she  was  poor,  and  that  the  future  support  of 
herself  and  her  father  must  depend  on  herself,  a 
desire  to  take  her  part  in  the  struggle  for  life  took 
possession  of  her.  She  had  always  wanted  to 
have  her  father  to  herself :  she  had  always  been  a 
little  jealous  of  his  clients  and  of  his  political 
friends.  She  wanted  to  be  with  him  a  great  deal ; 
for,  after  all,  he  was  all  she  had  in  the  world. 

She  pictured  to  herself  a  little  room  somewhere, 
hi  which  she  should  sit  sewing  or  painting,  while 
he  should  read  his  paper  in  peace,  —  a  modest 
and  happy  interior.  It  would  be  away  from  Red- 
wood somewhere,  —  somewhere  far  away,  so  that 
people  would  not  talk  about  their  poverty  or 
know  that  Judge  Redwood  and  his  daughter  had 


210      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

ever  been  different.  The  young  girl  felt  that  she 
could  not  stand  the  thought  that  her  comings-in 
and  goings-out  would  be  observed  by  curious 
eyes. 

The  Judge  was  eagerly  watched  by  Dr.  Talbot ; 
he  still  seemed  to  be  only  half-conscious.  One 
day,  while  Eleanor  was  in  his  room,  he  looked 
about  him  and  held  out  his  right  hand  for  some- 
thing. For  a  moment  Eleanor  was  perplexed; 
then  she  ran  downstairs  and  took  the  beads  from 
under  the  copy  of  Baxter's  "  Saint's  Rest,"  where 
Belinda  had  hidden  them.  She  looked  into  his 
eyes,  holding  up  the  crucifix.  She  saw  by  the 
twitching  of  his  fingers  that  this  was  what  he 
wanted.  He  tried  to  speak. 

"  Things  are  clearer,"  he  murmured.  "  I  see 
better,  —  Clarissa,  —  atonement."  Then,  with  a 
great  effort,  he  added,  "  I  trust  you,  Eleanor." 

Eleanor  pondered  on  these  words.  It  was  a 
great  delight  to  her  to  hear  him  speak  even  so  in- 
articulately. What  did  he  mean  by  atonement? 
Did  he  mean  that  something  of  Patrick  Desmond's 
had  been  kept  from  him  ?  Mrs.  Desmond's  words 
had  temporarily  relieved  her  mind ;  but  as  yet  she 
had  not  been  able  to  corroborate  those  words  by 
an  explanation  from  her  father.  If,  she  said  to 
herself,  there  had  been  some  mistake  —  for  it 
could  not  have  been  more  than  a  mistake  or  a 
miscalculation,  —  there  was  no  remedying  it ;  for 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      211 

the  Judge  was  poorer  than  Patrick  Desmond.  All 
she  could  do,  perhaps,  would  be  to  ask  the  injured 
man's  forgiveness  for  her  father ;  and  in  time  — 
Eleanor  glowed  with  ambition  at  the  thought  — 
she  would  pay  all  the  lost  money  back  by  the 
labor  of  her  hands. 

The  Judge  improved  much.  Finally  Dr.  Talbot 
recommended  change  of  air.  The  patient  could 
walk  about  a  little  now,  but  he  could  not  speak 
articulately.  The  watchers  could  make  out  the 
words,  "  Away  from  this  place  " ;  or  thought  they 
could.  Dr.  Talbot  was  compelled  to  admit  that 
the  Judge  might  never  be  any  better.  The  time 
came  for  Eleanor  to  face  the  realities  of  life.  Dr. 
Talbot  and  one  of  her  father's  legal  friends  came 
one  day,  and  asked  her  if  they  might  have  a  talk 
with  her  in  her  father's  study.  The  result  of  this 
talk  was  that  she  found  that  her  father  had  just 
one  thousand  dollars  in  the  bank  (he  had  de- 
posited this  subject  to  her  order),  and  that  she 
possessed  a  roll  of  shares  in  the  Fly- A  way  Mines, — 
nominal  value,  two  hundred  thousand  dollars ;  real 
value  with  the  mines  flooded,  almost  nothing. 
The  shares  were  in  her  name ;  her  father  had  en- 
tered into  this  speculation  for  her  sake. 

It  was  now  that  Redwood  showed  its  real  kind- 
ness of  heart.  Homes  for  a  year,  for  an  indefinite 
time,  were  offered  to  the  Judge  and  Eleanor.  Dr. 
Talbot  was  first  and  most  fervent  in  his  offer. 


212      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

And  Mrs.  Howard  Sykes,  whose  tongue  was  as 
bitter  as  her  mind  was  narrow,  drove  over  in  her 
Victoria,  full  of  soft  cushions  added  for  the 
Judge's  benefit,  and  insisted  that  he  and  Eleanor 
should  live  with  her.  Eleanor  shuddered  at  the 
thought,  but  she  was  none  the  less  grateful.  Mrs. 
Howard  Sykes  commanded  and  stormed  and 
threatened.  Mrs.  Bayard,  who  had  come  in  at  the 
same  time,  added  the  weight  of  her  arguments. 
Eleanor  flushed,  and  paled,  and  wept,  but  re- 
mained unmoved;  while  Belinda,  torn  by  the 
conflicting  feelings  of  desire  to  know  how  it 
would  end,  and  fear  lest  her  bread  should  burn, 
listened  at  the  door. 

Mrs.  Howard  Sykes  had  always  been  fond  of 
Eleanor.  It  is  a  great  mistake  to  imagine  —  as 
some  young  people  do  until  they  find  out  to  the 
contrary  —  that  goodness  does  not  "pay,"  even  in 
the  worldly  sense.  Eleanor,  who  had  her  little 
affectations  and  pretensions,  was,  after  all,  very 
simple  and  sincere.  She  was  under  the  impres- 
sion that  Mrs.  Howard  Sykes  disliked  her,  simply 
because  some  bitter  speeches  of  that  lady  had 
been  carried  to  her.  But  Eleanor's  good  qualities 
had  not  escaped  Mrs.  Sykes ;  besides,  the  Judge 
had  been  kind  to  her  in  earlier  days.  Eleanor 
was  firm  in  her  refusal  to  accept  hospitality. 

"What  will  you  do?  "  Mrs.  Sykes  asked,  thor- 
oughly disgusted  by  Eleanor's  obstinacy. 

"  Work,"  said  Eleanor. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      213 

Mrs.  Sykes  looked  at  her  —  from  the  soft  hair, 
carefully  dressed,  to  the  white  ruffles  on  her  gown. 
Then  she  took  one  of  Eleanor's  hands,  and  said, 
derisively : 

"  I  shouldn't  expect  much  work  from  these 
hands  in  the  factory." 

Eleanor  colored.  Mrs.  Howard  Sykes  meant 
well,  but  it  was  hard  to  bear  the  coarseness  of 
her  tone.  And  Laura  Bayard  laughed  at  the 
vision  of  Eleanor  Redwood  in  a  factory ;  and  yet 
there  was  a  certain  pleasure  in  the  laugh.  De  la 
Rochefoucauld  had  natures  like  hers  in  his  mind 
when  he  said  that  we  rejoice  in  the  misfortunes 
of  our  friends. 

"  But,  my  dear  Eleanor,  things  may  improve. 
In  our  part  of  the  world,  everybody  is  poor  some 
time  in  their  lives.  Look  how  poor  I  was  onct " 
—  Mrs.  Howard  Sykes  always  said  onct,  —  "  and 
now  I  keep  my  own  carriages.  The  Fly-Away 
Mines  may  come  out  all  right  in  the  end.  You 
just  hold  on  to  the  shares." 

"The  mines  are  ruined,  Harry  says,"  put  in 
Mrs.  Bayard,  in  alarm.  She  said  no  more.  If 
she  represented  the  mines  as  worthless,  Eleanor 
might  retain  the  shares  as  of  no  use  to  Desmond. 
But  Mrs.  Sykes.  who  was  deaf,  made  her  repeat 
her  speech. 

"  Your  husband  is  not  the  only  expert  in  the 
country.  I  should  have  other  opinions,  if  I  were 
Eleanor's  adviser." 


214     THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Mrs.  Bayard  looked  daggers.  "I  am  sure,"  she 
went  on,  "  that  Harry,  as  Eleanor's  friend,  would 
be  only  too  glad  to  give  a  favorable  opinion,  if 
he  could." 

"  Umph !  "  muttered  Mrs.  Sykes,  "  '  Harry '  may 
not  know  everything.  It  is  simply  a  question  as 
to  how  much  capital  it  would  take  to  get  the 
water  out." 

"But  we  have  nothing,"  said  Eleanor,  with  a 
sigh.  "  And  the  shares  " —  she  hesitated. 

Laura  Bayard  read  her  thoughts.  She  knew  at 
that  moment  that  she  might  save  herself  some 
diplomacy ;  those  shares  would  go  to  Patrick 
Desmond.  She  uttered  a  sigh  of  relief.  She  had 
clear  sailing  before  her.  What  simple-minded, 
selfish,  vain  creature  —  all  men  in  her  opinion 
were  selfish  and  vain,  but  few  simple-minded  — 
could  resist  the  influence  of  her  sister  Elaine? 
A  light  compunction  entered  her  breast  as  she 
looked  at  Eleanor ;  but  she  immediately  repressed 
it.  Nonsense  !  This  was  business.  She  was  justi- 
fied in  taking  any  advantage  that  would  bring  her 
what  she  most  desired,  and  that  was  money. 
Money  meant  happiness ;  the  lack  of  it,  despair. 

"  What  will  you  work  at  ? "  demanded  Mrs. 
Sykes,  uncompromisingly. 

"  I  will  find  something  to  do,"  answered  El- 
eanor. "  My  father  shall  never  want  for  anything 
as  long  as  I  have  my  two  hands." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      215 

Mrs.  Howard  Sykes  looked  at  her  pityingly. 
"If  you  were  a  Swede  or  a  Pole,  with  strong 
hands  used  to  hard  work,  you  might  find  employ- 
ment ;  but  you  ain't  fit  for  anything.  You  can 
preside  at  a  luncheon  or  a  Coffee,  or  something  of 
that  kind ;  but  what  else  can  you  do  ?  And  the 
work  of  receiving  people  don't  pay." 

The  door  creaked  violently.  "The  idear," 
muttered  Belinda,  "of  that  hag  putting  on  airs. 
She  couldn't  make  a  meringue  pie  like  Eleanor 
Redwood  to  save  her  life .  I  never  could  abide 
the  Sykeses.  They're  sly." 

"I  shall  go  to  New  York  and  learn  to  paint 
pictures,"  said  Eleanor,  shyly.  "  I  always  wanted 
to  be  able  to  paint,  but  papa  laughed  at  it.  I 
think  I  might  learn,  if  I  studied  hard  under  a 
good  master.  My  panels  have  been  praised,  you 
know." 

Mrs.  Howard  Sykes  did  not  know  much  about 
art.  The  Redwood  local  papers  had  said  some 
fine  things,  on  various  occasions,  about  Eleanor's 
panels ;  but  she  had  never  looked  at  them  from 
the  bread-and-butter  point  of  view. 

"I'm  sure,"  the  good  lady  said,  dubiously, 
"  that  them  geraniums  you  painted  on  my  birth- 
day cup  were  very  natural  —  " 

"  Wild  roses,"  corrected  Eleanor. 

"Whatever  they  were,"  continued  Mrs.  Sykes, 
"  they  were  good  enough  for  me ;  but,  then,  I 


216      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

ain't  no  judge.  I  never  knew  any  kind  of  paint- 
ing to  pay  except  sign-painting.  If  you  mean 
that,  it  would  be  awkward  for  a  young  lady  to  be 
getting  up  and  down  off  scaffolds,  though  women 
are  taking  to  all  kinds  of  work  nowaday.  But,  if 
your  mind  is  set  on  it,  I  think  you  could  learn 
to  do  that  just  as  well  here  as  in  New  York,  and 
maybe  better." 

Laura  laughed.  Eleanor  looked  helpless.  She 
was  spared  further  reply  by  the  sudden  entrance 
of  Belinda. 

"  I  can't  wait  and  hear  no  more  such  talk,  and 
my  bread  burning  down  in  the  oven.  Miss  Red- 
wood ain't  an  object  of  charity,  ladies ;  and  she 
needn't  take  to  climbing  no  scaffolds  while  I'm 
alive,"  cried  Belinda,  flourishing  her  apron.  "  And 
I  wonder,  Mrs.  Howard  Sykes,  that  a  woman 
of  your  age  should  think  of  such  a  thing.  I'm 
going  to  stick  to  Eleanor  and  the  Judge,  so  you 
needn't  come  here  with  any  of  your  charity." 

By  some  occult  means,  Belinda  suddenly  be- 
came aware  that  she  could  stay  no  longer,  and  she 
fled  defiantly.  Mrs.  Howard  Skyes  felt  subdued ; 
Belinda  had  too  many  revenges  in  her  grasp  to  be 
reprimanded  even  by  a  woman  who  drove  to  the 
Judge's  in  the  smartest  Victoria  in  Redwood. 
Belinda's  meteor-like  appearance  broke  off  the 
conversation.  Mrs.  Sykes,  finding  argument  and 
entreaty  and  threat  all  useless,  drove  back  home 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      217 

with  her  cushions.  Mrs.  Bayard  waited  to  deliver 
a  parting  shot,  in  the  hope  that  her  young  friend 
might  be  deterred  from  putting  her  hastily-formed 
plan  of  going  to  New  York  into  execution. 

"Ah,  dear  Nora,"  she  said,  kissing  her  good- 
by,  "you  will  meet  Mr.  Desmond  in  New  York. 
How  nice ! " 

"  Shall  I  ?  "  asked  Eleanor,  looking  at  her  quite 
frankly.  "Do  you  think  I  shall?  I  hope  so, — 
but  I  am  afraid  not,  New  York  is  so  large.  But 
do  you  know,  Laura,  he  is  just  the  kind  of  man  to 
help  one  in  trouble.  He  is  so  strong  in  his  relig- 
ious belief.  I  wish  I  could  have  a  talk  with  him." 

Mrs.  Bayard  went  away  with  the  feeling  that 
Eleanor  was  a  consummate  actress.  She  ought  to 
have  known  her  better.  Eleanor  had  never  learned 
to  conceal  her  feelings,  and  this  was  the  finest  art 
that  Mrs.  Bayard  possessed. 

Eleanor  spent  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  with  her 
father.  She  did  not  dare  to  rebuke  Belinda  for 
her  outburst.  What  would  be  the  use  of  it?  Be- 
sides, Belinda  had  shown  a  great  deal  of  heart, 
and  Eleanor  felt  grateful  for  it.  In  truth,  she  felt 
grateful  to  everybody.  Who  would  have  thought 
that  Mrs.  Howard  Sykes  was  really  so  kind  ? 

She  tried  to  finish  one  of  her  half-finished  pan- 
els —  a  wreath  of  pansies  and  clover  blossoms. 
People  had  praised  her  work  so  often,  surely  there 
must  be  some  good  in  it.  She  looked  up  several 
back  numbers  of  the  Redwood  Herald. 


218      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  Miss  Eleanor  Redwood,  the  only  daughter  of 
our  respected  townsman,  Judge  Redwood,  exhib- 
ited at  the  fancy  fair  an  exquisite  panel  of  forget- 
me-nots  and  roses  on  a  black  ground.  Miss 
Redwood's  tout  ensemble  is  characterized  by  light- 
ness of  chiaro-oscuro  and  perspective.  Miss  Red- 
wood has  only  to  compete  with  the  artists  of  the 
Old  World  to  take  the  crown.  Vce  victis!  " 

Eleanor  admitted  to  herself  that  this  was  not 
very  clear  or  very  well  written,  but  it  was  evident 
that  the  writer  admired  her  style.  There  was 
comfort  in  it.  Another  scrap  likewise  consoled 
her.  This  was  from  a  rival  sheet: 

"  Miss  Redwood's  beautiful  panel  of  morning- 
glories  entwining  a  Corinthian  Column  excited 
much  admiration  in  the  window  of  Mr.  Crombie's 
art  store.  It  is  a  thing  of  beauty  and  a  joy  for- 
ever. We  may  differ  from  the  Judge  in  politics, 
but  we  are  one  in  art.  We  cannot  express  this 
in  the  hog  Latin  of  our  esteemed  contemporary, 
the  Herald,  but  we  know  a  good  thing  when  we 
see  it." 

Mrs.  Howard  Sykes  might  mistake  her  wild 
roses  for  geraniums;  but,  then,  poor  Mrs.  Sykes 
knew  very  little  about  art.  Eleanor  was  consoled. 
Her  father  slept,  with  the  beads  in  his  fingers. 
How  like  a  child  he  looked  —  how  calm,  how 
peaceful.  She  kissed  his  forehead.  Suppose  — 
suppose  she  should  fail  to  help  him  !  —  her  heart 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      219 

_Dod  still.  Oh!  no.  She  might  fail,  but  God 
would  not.  The  crucifix  held  fast  in  his  hands 
did  not  seem  strange  to  her,  though  all  her  life 
she  had  been  taught  to  look  on  it  with  distrust. 
He  loved  it  and  she  loved  it  now.  How  absurd 
it  was  for  all  Christians  not  to  love  it.  It  sud- 
denly dawned  on  her  that  Christianity  must  be  a 
very  real  thing  to  those  who  loved  the  crucifix 
and  lived  at  the  feet  of  the  figure  of  Our  Saviour. 
She  could  not  get  over  the  wonder  of  her  father's 
turning  to  it  at  last.  He  had  smiled  at  texts  from 
the  Scriptures,  and  had  often  said  that  if  there  was 
anything  idolatrous  in  the  Roman  Church  it  was 
the  outward  reverence  paid  to  the  Bible.  The 
Bible  had  failed,  and  the  crucifix  had  conquered. 
It  was  not  strange ;  it  seemed  natural  enough  ; 
but  it  was  so  sudden. 

Protestants,  she  knew  —  had  not  Mr.  Stokes  told 
her  so? — would  not  believe  that  the  crucifix 
would  do  her  father  any  good.  Mrs,  Desmond 
was  the  only  one  who  would  sympathize  with  her. 
After  awhile,  when  Dr.  Talbot  should  come,  she 
would  run  over  to  Mrs.  Desmond's,  leave  the 
shares  in  the  Fly-Away  Mines  to  be  sent  to  Pat- 
rick —  who,  at  least,  would  understand  that  she 
meant  atonement,  —  and  perhaps  hear  a  word  of 
consolation  from  her. 

After  a  time  Belinda  made  her  appearance. 
She  looked  grimmer  than  usual,  but  her  eyes  were 
red  and  swollen. 


220      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  Your  tea  is  ready  downstairs,"  she  said,  ag- 
gressively. "  But  the  bread's  like  a  cinder,  owing 
to  a  lot  of  women  gossiping  and  chattering.  If 
they  had  stayed  home  and  minded  their  business 
I  could  have  attended  to  mine." 

"  What  is  the  difference,  Belinda  ?  "  remarked 
Eleanor.  "  There's  only  you  and  me  to  think  of 
now.  If  the  bread  isn't  so  nice,  who  cares  ?  Papa 
can  have  rolls." 

"  I  have  a  conscience,"  Belinda  went  on,  grimly ; 
"  and  it's  a  tormentin'  conscience.  I  sometimes 
think  it's  a  devil  in  disguise  —  God  forgive  me ! 
It's  always  a-botherin'  me  and  askin'  questions.  I 
am  a-worrying  this  minute  to  death  whether  I'll 
be  damned  in  hell-fire  for  shutting  the  door  in 
Mr.  Partridge's  face  and  saying  you  were  not  at 
home  that  day." 

"  I  was  not  at  home  to  him." 

"  Oh !  what  do  you  know  about  it  ?  Mr.  Stokes 
would  say  it  was  a  lie.  If  it  was  a  lie,  I'm  damned, 
and  that's  all  about  it ;  so  what's  the  use  of  try- 
ing to  be  good  ?  But  Mr.  Stokes  ain't  no  kind  of 
a  spiritooal  consoler.  He  doesn't  know  what  he 
believes.  —  You  go  down  and  get  your  tea,  and 
don't  be  talking  here.  Go  !  And  then  take  a  run 
in  the  fresh  air." 

Eleanor  paused,  standing,  and  looked  at  Be- 
linda with  wistful  kindness. 

"  Go  !  "  repeated  the  latter.     "  When  you  find 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       221 

out  the  great  wrong  I've  done  you  through  my 
wish  to  help  the  heathen  —  and  the  worst  of  it  is 
I  believe  Mr.  Stokes  is  a  heathen  himself,  — you'll 
hate  me.  Go  !  I'll  sit  with  your  pa.  To  think  of 
what  I  did  for  the  heathen,  and  to  know  that 
they're  to  be  saved  after  all  the  missionary  money 
that's  been  spent  for  nothing !  Oh  !  go,  —  don't 
rnind  me." 

Eleanor  went,  after  a  tender  look  at  her  father. 
She  knew  that  there  was  no  use  in  asking  ques- 
tions of  Belinda.  Her  business  was  to  go. 


222      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 


XVII. 

Who  can  say  where   impulse  will  lead  the  wisest ;  or  how 
deep  intuition  may  lead  the  pure  to  see  ? —  Oecco  di  Napoli. 

THE  Fly-Away  Mines  disaster  had  its  time  — 
its  day,  as  it  were,  —  and  then  other  matters  occu- 
pied attention.  Bayard  knew  very  well  that,  if 
the  Judge  were  in  good  health,  his  opinion  as  to 
the  condition  of  the  mines  would  not  have  stood 
alone.  As  it  was,  he  doubted  whether  Dr.  Talbot 
of  some  of  the  Judge's  friends  would  not  take  the 
matter  in  hand.  The  mines  were  small,  and  the 
Judge  had  been  the  largest  stockholder,  the  others 
depending  very  much  on  him. 

It  must  be  admitted  that,  on  second  thoughts, 
his  wife's  plan  for  marrying  Desmond  to  her  sister, 
in  order  that  the  stock  might  be  concentrated  in 
the  family,  seemed  somewhat  absurd.  But  he  was 
desperate,  and  his  wife  was  even  more  desperate ; 
they  both  longed  and  thirsted  for  money,  and  there 
was  no  possible  way  of  getting  it  except  by  some 
bold  movement.  Laura's  scheme  was  impulsive 
and  too  imaginative.  And  yet  he  had  known  that 
her  expedients  —  some  of  them  as  illogical  —  had 
often  succeeded.  He  laughed  sardonically  when 
he  thought  of  it.  There  were  too  many  "  ifs  "  in 
the  arrangement.  If  nobody  discovered  that  the 
condition  of  the  mines  was  not  hopeless  ;  if  Eleanor 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      223 

should  be  silly  enough  to  give  the  shares  to  Des- 
mond ;  if  he  should  let  Mrs.  Bayard's  sister  marry 
him.  Bayard  laughed  again.  It  was  like  a  woman 
to  have  the  whole  scheme  turn  on  a  possible 
marriage. 

It  was  true  that  Laura  knew  Eleanor,  and  the 
minor  premise  of  the  plan  might  count  for  some- 
thing. It  was  true,  too,  that  Elaine  was  a  very 
clever  widow,  poor,  anxious  for  money,  and  capa- 
ble of  marrying  anybody  who  could  give  it  to 
her ;  but,  after  all,  Desmond  was  the  unknown 
quantity.  He  might  be  dazzled  by  Elaine  or  he 
might  not ;  he  might  be  ambitious  in  other  direc- 
tions, and  quite  impervious  to  the  social  advantages 
which  a  marriage  with  Elaine  would  give  him. 
In  fact,  after  some  consideration,  Bayard  felt 
disgusted  with  Laura's  scheme.  But  was  there  a 
better  one  possible  ?  To  whisper  to  anybody 
that  the  Fly- A  way  Mines  were  not  utterly  ruined 
would  be  fatal ;  he  could  trust  nobody  except 
Laura,  and  he  trusted  her  only  because  her  inter- 
est was  his.  Eleanor  was  a  fool  in  business 
matters  ;  it  would  not  be  necessary  to  tell  her 
much.  If  he  could  have  borrowed  money  enough 
to  make  Eleanor  a  tempting  offer  for  the  shares, 
he  might  have  done  so ;  but  he  was  hopelessly  in 
debt.  If  the  shares  passed  to  Patrick  Desmond, 
he  might  buy  them  from  him  —  if  he  had  the 
money  ;  but,  then,  if  Desmond  were  clever,  the 


224      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATftICK  DESMOND. 

fact  that  he  had  an  offer  for  them  would  make 
him  suspect  that  they  were  not  as  worthless  as 
they  seemed.  Laura's  scheme  was  ridiculous,  he 
admitted,  and  yet  it  fascinated  him. 

Elaine,  his  wife's  sister,  was  now  the  Baroness 
von  Homburg.  She  lived  in  a  flat  up  town  in 
New  York,  and  taught  music.  She  had  been  sent 
abroad  when  she  was  twenty  for  tne  cultivation  of 
her  voice  j  she  even  sang  a  minor  part  in  one  of 
Wagner's  operas  at  Baireuth,  and  then  starved  in 
various  Italian  and  German  cities,  as  many 
American  girls  with  great  ambitions  and  small 
voices  do.  She  had  met  in  Dresden  a  young 
German  student,  the  Baron  von  Homburg.  He 
had  married  her ;  and  when  he  died  the  "  beautiful 
American,"  as  she  was  called,  was  left  almost 
penniless, —  his  parents,  believing  very  little  in 
their  daughter-in-law,  having  withdrawn  the  small 
pension  they  allowed  him.  The  Baroness  tried 
the  operatic  stage  again  (she  had  made  her 
entrance  in  the  first  Minuet  of  Nations,  done  at 
Redwood,  in  1860),  and  failed.  She  came  then 
to  New  York  and  began  to  teach  vocal  music. 
Her  title  helped  her;  but,  as  the  value  of  her 
method  was  not  great,  she  was  obliged  to  go 
through  much  drudgery  for  small  returns.  To 
get  away  from  this  wretched  life  was  her  one 
idea,  her  one  hope.  She  way  no  longer  the  "  beau- 
tiful American."  Pearl-powder,  blonde  dye,  and 


HIE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      225 

Indian  ink,  gave  her  a  complexion,  golden  hair, 
and  expression.  She  was  a  faded,  hopeless  woman, 
without  faith,  and  with  only  one  desire  —  to  live 
luxuriously,  as  those  enviable  beings  of  the 
"  leisure  classes  "  lived. 

On  Saturday  evenings,  at  eight  o'clock,  a  score 
of  people  went  up  to  her  little  flat.  She  was  "  at 
home  "  ;  and  then,  with  her  most  fascinating  airs 
and  graces,  she  served  tea  from  a  Russian  samovar, 
and  forgot  the  wild  shrieks  of  her  pupils  and 
their  dreadful  pounding  on  the  piano.  At  eight 
on  Saturday  she  became  the  Baroness,  and  kept 
that  character  until  Monday  morning.  Then,  she 
became  again  the  music  mistress,  and  the  scales 
pierced  her  ears.  She  hated  her  life  ;  submission 
to  the  will  of  God  was  out  of  the  question  in  a 
woman  who  never  thought  of  God,  except  to  call 
down  maledictions  on  the  Baron's  family  for  their 
selfishness.  The  necessity  of  petty  economies,  the 
bitterness  of  hearing  of  the  profusion  of  the  rich  — 
for  in  her  social  set  this  profusion  was  the  theme 
of  constant  conversation, —  the  wretchedness  of 
walking  while  others  drove,  the  cold  "  cut "  given 
by  some  woman  who  had  met  the  Baroness  casually 
and  who  did  not  care  to  keep  up  the  acquaintance, 
—  all  the  many  miseries  entailed  by  pretentious- 
ness and  the  sense  of  failure  were  this  woman's. 
How  little  her  title  amounted  to  among  the  people 
who  crowded  Delmomco's  after  the  opera,  or  who 


226      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

were  the  centres  of  some  of  those  large  parties  to 
which  she  was  sometimes  invited  to  sing.  In 
New  York  an  English  title  is  omnipotent;  and 
any  other  foreign  title,  if  a  man  wear  it,  is  not 
without  power.  But  with  a  woman  it  is  different : 
a  German  Baroness  or  a  French  Marquise  or  an 
Italian  Countess  knocks  at  the  gates  of  society  in 
vain,  unless  she  be  rich. 

There  were  certain  poets  and  "  poetesses  "  of 
passion,  singers  at  the  theatres,  editors  of  unknown 
papers,  and  "  cranks,"  who  drank  tea  regularly  at 
the  Baroness's  "Saturdays."  They  wrote  about 
themselves  in  the  papers,  and  Nellie  Galligan,  up 
in  Harlem,  read  of  them  with  awe ;  but,  then, 
Nellie  had  not  yet  learned  to  discriminate.  And 
the  day  when  the  Baroness's  card  was  brought  up 
by  the  janitor's  son  —  the  little  boy  in  buttons 
who  had  so  greatly  impressed  Patrick  Desmond  — 
was  an  epoch  in  the  career  of  the  wife  of  the  Hon. 
Miles  Galligan. 

Laura  Bayard  had  lost  no  time  in  explaining  her 
plan  to  the  Baroness ;  and  the  Baroness,  who  had 
lived  on  novels  until  no  scheme  seemed  imprac- 
tical, determined  at  least  to  put  the  ball  in  motion. 
Laura  had  not  found  it  difficult  to  get  Desmond's 
address ;  and  although  he  was  now  at  the  Tivoli 
Hotel,  the  people  at  the  office  had  given  her  the 
name  of  the  Grand  Windsor. 

Nellie    was    very    thankful    that   she  had   not 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      227 

begun  her  preparations  for  moving  down  town; 
for  the  hour  was  near  when  the  family  would 
have  to  consider  Miles'  constituents.  For  some 
time  she  had  been  living  in  the  Grand  Windsor 
"  for  change  of  air " ;  she  could  not  endure  the 
atmosphere  of  the  district  in  which  Miles'  constit- 
uents lived.  But  Miles  was  compelled  by  cir- 
cumstances to  live  down  town  —  in  order  to  retain 
his  votes,  as  well  as  his  right  to  be  elected ;  and 
in  a  very  short  time  it  would  be  necessary  for 
him  to  reassume  his  place  of  residence  in  his  own 
district,  previous  to  Nellie's  flight  to  Saratoga. 
How  grateful  she  was  that  she  was  still  among 
her  red  velvet  draperies  when  the  Baroness  called 
She  was  sadly  disappointed,  however,  when  she 
found  that  the  great  lady  had  merely  sent  up  her 
card  and  disappeared.  The  next  day  she  was 
relieved  when  she  was  informed,  in  the  best  style 
of  engraving,  that  the  Baroness  would  be  at  home, 
in  East  40th  Street,  on  Saturday  at  eight  o'clock. 
At  that  moment  Nellie  felt  at  peace  with  all  the 
world. 

In  the  meantime  Bayard  had  received  satis- 
factory evidence  that  the  first  of  Laura's  "  ifs  " 
tvas  out  of  the  way.  Eleanor  stopped  on  the  way 
to  Mrs.  Desmond's  to  consult  him  about  the 
mines.  It  had  occurred  to  her  that  some  legal 
transfer  might  be  necessary  in  order  to  make 
them  validly  the  property  of  Desmond.  They 


228      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

were  probably  worth  nothing,  Eleanor  reasoned ; 
but,  at  least,  Desmond  should  see  that  she  meant 
to  acknowledge  his  right  to  them.  They  would 
be  a  sort  of  pledge,  which,  in  time,  she  might 
redeem.  She  said  to  herself  that  it  was  foolish 
to  give  him  worthless  papers  —  but  she  wanted 
to  do  it ;  and,  besides,  he  was  a  man  and  might 
make  them  valuable  in  time. 

Bayard  explained  to  her  that  the  transfer  could 
be  made  the  next  day ;  he  would  attend  to  it,  if 
she  would  come  to  his  office.  She  went  away 
relieved  —  delighted,  too,  that  Bayard  did  not  ask 
her  questions. 

"The  girl's  a  Quixotic  fool,"  he  said  to  his 
wife,  after  Eleanor  had  left  the  parlor  of  the 
Howard  House. 

"No,"  returned  Laura,  "she's  not  a  fool;  she 
is  only  a  woman  with  all  the  impulsiveness  of  a 
woman  who  has  ideals  — " 

"  Without  ideas,"  sneered  Bayard. 

"  Oh  !  I  don't  know  about  that.  Half  the  fool- 
ish things  in  the  world  are  done  on  impulse ;  and 
half  the  evil  and  treacherous  things,  to  conceal 
the  real  motive  of  the  first  action.  When  Eleanor 
realizes  that  this  cheap  act  of  restitution,  which 
she  does  because  she  is  in  love  with  Patrick 
Desmond,  has  made  her  father  poor,  she'll  move 
the  earth  to  undo  it."  Laura  laughed  cynically. 
"If  she  knew  the  world  better,  she  would  wait 
and  trust  no  one.  But  let  her  go  on." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PAT1UCK  DESMOND.      229 

Eleanor  found  that  Mrs.  Desmond  was  not 
alone  in  the  little  house.  She  had  two  visitors  — 
Mr.  Stokes  and  Jack  Conlon.  Jack  had  come  to 
say  good-by ;  and  Mr.  Stokes,  who  missed  Patrick, 
had  called  to  ask  for  news.  Mr.  Stokes'  listening 
eyes  brightened  as  Eleanor  entered,  and  he  gently 
adjusted  his  blue  necktie.  Jack  looked  at  her 
with  interest.  Miss  Redwood  in  distress  was  a 
much  more  sympathetic  personality  in  his  eyes 
than  the  haughty  Miss  Redwood  of  prosperity. 

Eleanor  was  a  little  paler  than  usual.  When 
she  entered  the  room,  which  was  lighted  by  the 
soft  after-glow  of  sunset,  the  faint  perfume  of  the 
lilies  of  the  valley  in  her  belt  came  with  her. 
Mrs.  Desmond  breathed  a  prayer  of  gratitude 
that  Patrick  was  not  at  home.  He  might  have 
kept  his  promise  to  avoid  Eleanor,  if  she  were 
rich  and  courted ;  but  Eleanor  poor  and  neglected 
would  conquer  with  a  glance.  To  Mrs.  Desmond's 
consternation  Eleanor  asked  for  Patrick's  address. 
This  the  old  lady  gave,  nattering  herself  that  her 
son  was  safe  out  of  the  way. 

Eleanor  hoped  that  Jack  Conlon  and  Mr.  Stokes 
would  go ;  she  longed  for  a  talk  with  Mrs. 
Desmond.  Mrs.  Desmond  had  known  her  mother ; 
she  had  learned  the  secret  of  living  peacefully 
and  patiently.  As  Eleanor  looked  at  the  cheerful 
old  face,  she  thought  of  the  "  celestial  brightness  " 
which,  Longfellow  tells  us,  made  Evangeline's 
face  more  beautiful  after  confession. 


230      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Surrounded  by  people,  Eleanor  had  always  been 
alone.  She  had  followed  the  customs  of  the  world 
around  her,  but  she  had  always  secretly  longed  for 
a  better  one.  She  had  often  dreamed  of  some 
Forest  of  Arden,  to  which  she  could  go  with  her 
father  and  find  something  that  her  life  lacked. 
Unpractical  and  unspoiled,  she  valued  love  above 
all  things  ;  and  it  seemed  sad  to  her  that  the  heart 
that  loved  her  so  much  —  her  father's  —  should 
be  filled  by  so  many  mere  earthly  things.  In 
Mrs.  Desmond  she  saw  love  personified :  her  son, 
after  God,  filled  her  life.  And  in  this  simple  old 
woman,  with  toil-hardened  hands  and  uncultivated 
talk  —  whom  most  of  Eleanor's  friends  looked  on 
from  their  heights  as  an  ignorant  drudge, —  she 
saw  a  beautiful  soul,  which  must  enshrine  a 
treasure  as  rich  as  a  ruby  and  as  soft  as  an  opal. 
It  was  this  treasure  that  Eleanor  coveted ;  for  the 
pure  in  heart  have  intuitions  that  later,  when  they 
receive  the  light,  are  known  as  "  instincts  of 
faith."  And  Eleanor  was  pure  in  heart  and  full 
of  these  rare  intuitions. 

Jack  Conlon,  happy  in  his  own  father's  partial 
recovery,  was  most  solicitous  about  the  Judge. 
Mr.  Stokes  regretted  that  the  Minuet  of  Nations, 
which  Eleanor  had  quite  forgotten,  must  go  on 
without  her.  Mrs.  Desmond,  glad  that  Patrick 
was  out  of  the  way,  expressed  real  pleasure  in 
Eleanor's  visit,  and  offered  her  a  cup  of  tea. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      231 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  might  be  going  to 
church,  Mrs.  Desmond,"  Eleanor  said ;  "  and,  if 
you  are,  I  should  like  to  walk  that  far  with  you." 

"  The  church  is  not  open  to-night,  dear,"  Mrs. 
Desmond  answered,  in  surprise  at  Eleanor's 
request.  "  Indeed  I  wish  it  was  ;  I  should  be 
glad  to  go  with  you." 

"  I  have  been  anxious  all  day,  and  I  had  an 
idea  that  a  visit  to  your  church  would  be  nice. 
It  is  so  restful  there." 

Mr.  Stokes  looked  surprised,  Jack  Conlon, 
amused,  — "  restful "  seemed  to  him  to  be  so 
characteristic  of  the  non-Catholic  idea  of  the 
Church. 

"  You'll  be  turning  Catholic  before  you  know 
it,  Miss  Redwood,"  Mr.  Stokes  said,  smiling. 
"  To  young  people  of  your  tendencies  the  Church 
of  Rome  has  a  fatal  attraction." 

"  Why  '  fatal '  ?  "  demanded  Jack,  promptly. 

Eleanor,  with  equal  promptness,  saved  Mr. 
Stokes.  "  I  am  attracted  toward  the  Catholic 
Church,"  she  said ;  "  I  must  admit  that,  because  it 
is  so  much  more  liberal  than  other  churches." 

Conlon  smiled,  and  Mr.  Stokes  fanned  himself 
with  his  early  strawhat.  This  was  amazing. 

"  Yes,"  said  Eleanor,  stirring  her  tea ;  "  Mr. 
Stokes  could  give  me  no  comfort  the  other  day 
when  papa  seemed  to  be  dying  ;  at  least,  he  didn't 
seem  to  think  there  was  any  comfort  for  me  in 


232      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

our  church.  Of  course,  I  knew  papa  had  not 
read  much  in  the  Bible  of  late  years  —  he  was 
never  a  professor  of  religion,  you  know,  Mrs. 
Desmond,  —  and  he  had  often  laughed  at  revivals 
and  other  things.  But  I  know  he  always  believed 
in  a  God,  though  not  the  strict,  Presbyterian  God 
whom  he  had  learned  to  dislike  when  he  was  a 
boy  —  " 

Jack  Conlon  laughed ;  Mr.  Stokes  looked 
shocked ;  Eleanor  stopped,  blushing. 

"  I  hope  I  don't  seem  irreverent,"  she  ex- 
plained, in  a  low  voice ;  "  I  merely  want  to  tell 
you  how  my  father  felt.  And  when  I  thought  he 
was  dying,  and  I  saw  that  he  seemed  to  think  so 
much  of  the  figure  of  Christ  on  the  cross,  I  hoped 
that  there  might  be  a  chance  for  him.  But  Mr. 
Stokes  seemed  to  believe  that  he  could  not  go  to 
Heaven  ;  and  of  course,  as  there  is  no  middle  place, 
he  must  be  lost." 

"  But  there  is  a  middle  place,  Miss  Redwood," 
observed  Jack  Conlon  :  "  there  is  Purgatory." 

"  Oh  !  indeed,  I  hope  so,"  said  Eleanor.  "And 
it  is  because  you  have  this  middle  place  for  poor 
people  who  are  not  fit  to  live  forever  with  demons, 
and  yet  not  good  enough  to  be  with  God  all  at 
once,  that  I  think  your  Church  is  so  liberal  — 

"  I  said,"  interrupted  Mr.  Stokes,  solemnly, 
"  that  a  liking  for  a  symbol,  a  mere  piece  of  metal, 
did  not  show  a  change  of  heart,  —  that  was  all." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      233 

Jack  did  not  speak;  he  was  thinking.  Here 
was  a  new  evidence  that  all  roads  lead  "to  Rome. 
He  had  never  contemplated  the  possibility  of  a 
Protestant  admiring  the  Church  because  of  "  lib- 
erality." 

"  Sure,  who  can  tell  what  Judge  Redwood's 
thoughts  were  when  he  stood  face  to  face  with 
death  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Desmond.  "  God  is  very 
good  and  very  merciful.  And  surely  the  soul 
that  looked  its  last  in  love  and  penitence  on  the 
face  of  the  thorn-crowned  Lord  couldn't  be  fit 
company  for  devils  for  ever  and  ever." 

"  Thank  you  ! "  cried  Eleanor,  thinking  that 
she  had  never  heard  sweeter  poetry  than  came 
from  the  lips  of  this  uneducated  woman. 

"  Don't  thank  me,  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Desmond, 
rising  from  her  seat  and  finding  her  prayer-book 
in  a  closet  near  the  mantelpiece.  She  took  a  little 
printed  slip  from  between  its  leaves.  "  Here's 
something  that  will  help  you ;  'tis  the  Memorare- 
Say  that  every  day  with  all  your  heart,  and  every- 
thing will  come  right," 

Eleanor  took  the  slip  with  an  eagerness  that 
scandalized  Mr.  Stokes.  "  Indeed  I  will,  Mrs. 
Desmond,"  she  answered. 

"  Symbols,"  he  suggested,  gently,  "  do  not  make 
for  salvation.  I  distrust  the  use  of  symbols  :  they 
obscure  the  real." 

"  And    what    do    you    believe,    Mr.    Stokes  ? " 


234      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Jack  Cordon  demanded,  suddenly.  "  Do  you  be- 
lieve that  Christ  is  God  ?  " 

Mr.  Stokes'  face  became  painful  to  look  at ;  he 
was  a  truthful  man,  and  felt  obliged  to  answer : 

"  I  hardly  know.  Emerson's  belief  in  the  po- 
tentiality of  all  noble  men  —  of  Socrates,  of  Plato, 
of  Marcus  Aurelius  — 

"  Don't  go  any  further,"  said  Jack,  with  a  look 
at  Mrs.  Desmond's  frightened  face.  "  I  presume, 
then,"  he  added,  with  a  touch  of  unwarrantable 
sarcasm,  "  that  if  you  do  pray  to  the  Son  of  God, 
you  look  upon  Him  merely  as  a  Unitarian  saint, 
like  Marcus  Aurelius  and  the  rest." 

Mr.  Stokes  seemed  startled.  This  assertion 
had  a  sting  in  it  for  him ;  he  did  not  know  how 
to  answer  it ;  he  wished  he  had  held  his  tongue. 

"  Just  as  I  am,"  he  said,  after  a  pause,  "  I  put 
my  burden  on  the  Rock  of  Ages,  without  one 
plea." 

"Ah!  Mr.  Stokes,"  murmured  Jack,  gently, 
"  you  know  that  does  not  satisfy  you." 

Mr.  Stokes  sighed  :  he  knew  that  he  was  at  sea, 
yet  he  hated  to  think  of  Eleanor  Redwood's  find- 
ing comfort  in  the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 

As  the  young  men  did  not  go,  Eleanor  took 
her  leave.  "  I  am  about  to  send  Mr.  Desmond 
some  papers,  which  he  must  not  think  of  return- 
ing: they  are  his,"  she  said,  clasping  Mrs.  Des- 
mond's extended  hand  cordially.  The  old  lady 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK   DESMOND.      235 

..rf turned  the  pressure  warmly ;  Patrick  was  safe, 
and  now  she  could  like  Eleanor  unreservedly. 

"  Your  Church  may  yet  get  a  convert  in  El- 
eanor Redwood,"  said  Mr.  Stokes,  with  a  touch  of 
bitterness,  as  he  and  Jack  Conlon  walked  home- 
ward. "  It  won't  be  prayer,  as  the  old  lady 
thinks,  but  Desmond,  that  will  bring  her  into  the 
fold." 

"  You  do  her  injustice,  Stokes,"  the  other  an- 
swered. "  You  don't  understand ;  you  see  only 
the  human  side  of  life.  She  is  not  thinking  of 
Desmond  at  all  —  in  that  way." 

Jack  Conlon,  too,  had  his  intuitions. 


236      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

XVIII. 

Love  with  anxiety  is  a  living  death.  —  Conrad  von  Bolanden. 

IN  a  row  of  brown  stone  houses,  all  alike,  with 
heavy  balusters  and  deeply  encased  basement 
doors,  almost  in  the  centre  of  the  city  of  New 
York,  lived  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arthur  Fitzgerald. 
Mrs.  Arthur  Fitzgerald,  who  had  been  Mary  Gal- 
ligan,  had  changed  somewhat  since  her  marriage. 
She  was  handsomer  than  when  she  had  taught 
school,  and  worried  about  Miles,  and  managed  the 
household  expenses,  and  kept  her  lively  sister 
Esther  —  now  Mrs.  John  Longworthy  —  in  order. 
She  did  not  seem  so  careworn  as  she  had  been  5 
she  was  like  a  half-closed  flower  that  gradually 
expands  in  the  sun.  And  there  were  times  when 
she  was  as  entirely  contented  as  any  earthly  being 
could  be ;  yet  no  day  dawned  without  a  dark  fear 
coming  with  it.  She  had  no  fear  for  her  husband : 
he  was  good  and  manly  and  true.  Together 
every  morning  he  and  she  went  to  an  early  Mass, 
and  then  said  good-by  until  the  evening  ;  but  she 
had  no  fear  for  Arthur :  love,  respect  and  grati- 
tude made  a  perfume  about  the  very  thought  of 
his  name.  She  was  not  anxious  about  material 
things :  Arthur's  practice  at  the  law  was  good, 
and  his  patrimony  had  increased  in  value ;  he  was 
enabled  to  live  well  without  anxiety.  And  she 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      -37 

no  longer  turned  her  old  silk  frocks,  or  indulged 
in  those  economies  which  had  formerly  excited 
Esther  to  rebellion. 

But  her  brother  Miles  was  never  absent  from 
her  mind.  She  knew  that  he  seldom  went  to 
Mass,  that  he  avoided  the  confessional ;  she  knew 
that  he  was  growing  more  and  more  careless  — 
Esther  had  once  said  "  brutal,"  and  Mary  had 
felt  as  if  a  dagger  had  pierced  her  heart.  No, 
Miles  could  never  be  brutal ;  whatever  were  his 
faults,  he  could  never  deserve  that  epithet. 
"  Brutal !  "  —  how  could  Esther  have  used  it  ? 
Did  she  realize  that  he  had  the  pure  Irish  blood 
of  a  pious  father  and  mother  in  his  veins  ?  And 
Mary  had  begged  her  sister  to  take  it  back,  but 
Esther  had  not  done  so. 

"  Miles  was  made  selfish  by  his  education,"  she 
had  said ;  "  he  was  indulged  and  pampered,  and 
all  the  weeds  of  his  nature  brought  to  the  sur- 
face. He  was  bad  enough  when  he  was  with  us  ; 
he  was  only  selfish  then,  now  he  is  brutalized. 
Do  I  pity  him?  No!  But  I  do  pity  his  wife  and 
child.  If  I  can  ever  help  them  I  will  —  although 
his  wife  is  Nellie  Mulligan,  —  but  I  don't  care  to 
live  in  the  same  city  with  him  or  her." 

And  so  Esther  had  gone  off  to  London  and 
Paris,  glad  to  get  away  from  the  sad  look  that 
came  into  Mary's  face  whenever  Miles'  name  was 
mentioned,  —  glad  to  live  her  own  life,  and  to 


238      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

study  new  problems  with  that  delightful  John, 
whose  existence  induced  her  to  tolerate  the  rest 
of  the  male  sex. 

Mary  was  lonely  without  her  at  first,  and 
Arthur's  long  day  at  the  office  seemed  doubly 
long.  But  she  was  a  woman  of  many  charities ;  she 
haunted  the  tenement  house  called  The  Anchor, 
and  did  much  to  improve  the  condition  of  the 
poor  in  that  structure.  She  had  read  John  Long- 
worthy's  "  Poverty  and  Sin  "  with  deep  interest. 
He  held  that  poverty  in  city  life  was  a  terrible 
curse,  because  it  resulted  in  degradation  and 
temptation  to  sin.  And,  as  it  was  not  in  her 
power  to  apply  the  remedies  he  suggested,  she 
went  about  in  the  old-fashioned  way,  directed 
when  in  doubt  by  the  priests  of  the  parish,  — 
encouraging,  teaching,  giving;  and  among  the 
younger  people  she  had  already  produced  certain 
results.  But  among  the  older  women,  devotion 
to  beer  and  gossip  was  so  intense  that  she  believed 
nothing  but  death  could  change  them. 

She  had  no  theories  ;  she  accepted  facts  as  they 
were.  She  did  not  believe  that  poverty  could  be 
ever  extirpated  from  the  earth,  or  its  conse- 
quences abolished ;  but  she  did  believe  that  it 
was  a  greater  curse  in  the  crowded  tenement 
houses  in  New  York  than  anywhere  else  within 
her  knowledge.  She  did  not  raise  her  voice  in 
condemning  the  gayety  and  frivolity  of  the 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      233 

younger  people.  She  sometimes  compared  her 
own  carefully  guarded  youth  with  that  of  these 
young  girls,  who  flaunted  at  picnics  and  assemblies, 
and  whose  life  was  divided  between  drudgery  and 
what  they  called  pleasure  ;  and  she  prayed  for 
them  all  with  a  shudder.  She  understood  them,  — 
she  understood  how  deceitful  were  appearances  ; 
and  she  understood,  too,  that  the  cause  of  their 
dangerous  gayety  and  frivolity  lay  in  the  fact  that 
they  had  no  homes. 

Mary  tried  to  dedicate  herself  to  the  task  of 
making  the  homes  in  The  Anchor  more  homelike. 
It  was  not  an  easy  one,  for  habit  had  to  be  con- 
tended against.  But  Mary  never  lost  sight  of  the 
truth  that  love  is  the  secret  of  success  ;  she  loved 
these  people,  and  her  suffering  on  Miles'  account 
had  made  her  tolerant.  It  was  very  difficult  for 
these  young  girls,  after  a  day's  hard  labor  in  a 
wretchedly  ventilated  warehouse  or  factory,  to 
resist  the  temptation  of  a  dance,  in  summer  on 
the  sea-breeze  swept  docks,  in  winter  in  one  of 
the  assembly  halls.  All  this  led  to  many  evils  ; 
but  the  evils,  so  far  as  Mary  could  understand, 
were  not  much  greater  than  those  developed 
through  excessive  love  of  amusement  in  any  posi- 
tion of  life.  She  had  read  Mr.  Ward  McAllister's 
book  as  well  as  John  Longworthy's ;  and  it  seemed 
to  her  that  the  life  as  depicted  in  one  was  not  less 
vulgar  than  that  shown  to  exist  by  the  other. 


240      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

There  was  the  difference  that  beer  was  cheaper 
than  champagne ;  but  surely  it  was  as  bad  for  a 
young  woman  to  partake  publicly  of  one  as  of  the 
other. 

Mary,  through  her  love  and  tolerance,  got  very 
near  to  many  of  the  young  women  of  The  Anchor. 
Give  them  home  amusements,  teach  them  the 
household  arts,  tread  down  the  weed  envy,  make 
them  understand  the  meaning  of  the  Magnificat, 
and  the  most  difficult  points  of  the  social  problem, 
over  which  so  many  throughout  the  world  were 
puzzling,  would  be  met.  The  question,  in  Mary's 
opinion,  was  of  mothers  and  homes.  But  what 
homes  could  be  made  in  The  Anchor,  with 
drunken  ravings  and  habitual  blasphemy  filling 
the  air,  — where  there  might  be  innocence  of 
evil,  but  no  ignorance  of  it?  And  how  were 
good  mothers  to  be  graduated  from  a  domestic 
atmosphere  of  such  malarious  properties  ? 

There  were  many  true  homes  and  true  mothers 
in  the  tenement  houses  of  New  York.  Mary 
knew  this,  but  her  principal  concern  was  with 
The  Anchor,  where  tenement-house  life  was  almost 
at  its  worst.  Longworthy,  in  his  book,  had  pre- 
sented the  evils  of  the  overcrowded  tenements ; 
but  he  had  offered  no  remedy,  except  that  the 
city  should  look  more  carefully  after  their  sanitary 
qualities.  Thanks  to  him,  the  families  in  The 
Anchor  were  provided,  in  the  summer,  with  good 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      241 

vegetables,  milk  and  ice  at  moderate  rates,  through 
the  usual  dealers  in  those  commodities ;  and  he 
had  established  a  system  which  did  away  with  the 
ruinous  price  they  paid  for  their  coal  in  winter. 
But  this  was  not  enough,  —  and  yet  John  Long- 
worthy,  assisted  by  large  wealth  and  all  Esther's 
capability,  had  not  gone  any  farther.  Extrava- 
gance, envy,  drunkenness,  domestic  quarrels,  lazi- 
ness among  the  young  men,  and  a  feverish  desire 
for  amusement  on  the  part  of  the  young  women, 
were  rampant.  So  far  as  Mary  could  see,  the 
only  remedy  lay  in  inducing  each  individual  in 
The  Anchor  to  believe  firmly  that  he  had  certain 
duties  to  perform  beyond  the  mere  act  of  living. 

Religion  had  a  strong  hold  on  the  young 
women ;  it,  and  not  public  opinion,  kept  them 
from  those  great  sins  of  which  the  unthinking 
might  accuse  them,  judging  only  from  appear- 
ances. The  annual  "mission"  at  the  Catholic 
church  in  whose  parish  The  Anchor  was,  had 
great  force  with  the  young  men.  Whatever 
reactionary  power  against  debasement  they  pos- 
sessed was  due  to  the  confessional.  But  while 
religion  could  keep  most  of  them  from  becoming 
entirely  degraded,  —  while  it  lifted  them  up  after 
they  had  fallen,  —  while  they  caught  at  it  as  men 
climbing  up  a  mountain  side  catch  at  a  stout 
branch  as  they  fall,  and  save  themselves  in  the 
very  act  of  falling,  —  it  had  little  effect  in  mak- 


<M2      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

ing  the  habitual  "  loafer "  see  that  he  ought  not 
to  live  on  the  earnings  of  his  mother,  the  washer- 
woman ;  or  in  causing  young  Grogan,  for  instance, 
to  support  his  wife.  Nobody  in  The  Anchor 
believed  that  poverty  could  be  a  blessing.  And 
yet  Mary  saw  that  they  must  come  to  regard  it  as 
a  blessing — to  regard  it  as  a  means  of  grace  — 
before  it  could  be  possible  to  make  it  endurable. 
Neither  John  Longworthy  nor  anybody  else  writ- 
ing on  the  social  problem  had  shown  how  this 
might  be  done.  Mary  did  not  know  herself,  but 
she  wanted  very  much  to  find  out. 

Arthur  Fitzgerald  did  not  bother  himself  with 
such  questions.  He  had  his  law  business  and 
John  Longworthy's  real  estate  to  look  after.  It 
was  his  opinion  that  the  city  of  New  York  would 
one  day  become  a  place  for  business  and  ware- 
houses exclusively.  He  had  read  a  paper  before 
a  Catholic  club  in  which  he  had  said  that  the  rich 
ought  to  be  kind  to  the  poor,  and  that  the  poor 
ought  not  to  envy  the  rich  ;  and  he  had  expressed 
the  opinion  that  a  return  to  Christian  feudalism 
would  be  the  desirable  thing.  But  he  never 
dreamed  of  explaining  how  the  people  in  The 
Anchor  were  to  be  made  the  contented  subjects  of 
his  ideal  feudalism. 

The  real  cross  in  his  life  was  Miles.  Miles 
.stood  between  his  wife's  heart  and  his  •,  she  never 
forgot  her  brother:  he  would  come  up  in  her 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      243 

thoughts  just  as  Arthur  had  made  her  almost 
happy.  Again,  Miles  was  an  unscrupulous  poli- 
tician, and  the  tool  of  more  unscrupulous  politi- 
cians ;  to  take  a  bribe  was  a  legitimate  thing  in 
his  eyes,  —  to  be  caught  was  the  illegitimate 
thing.  Politics  meant  business  and  Miles  did 
not  hesitate  to  say  so.  To  Arthur,  trained  by 
the  Jesuits  to  a  delicate  sense  of  honor  in  all  the 
relations  of  life,  the  necessity  of  associating  with 
such  a  man  was  deplorable. 

Esther,  in  their  talks,  had  sometimes  made 
bitter  comparisons  between  Arthur  and  her 
brother.  "Why  is  it,"  she  had  asked,  "that 
Arthur,  with  the  same  education  at  school  as 
Miles,  is  so  different?  And  I  am  sure  Miles 
wasn't  born  bad." 

There  was  never  any  answer  made  to  this,  but 
it  was  Arthur's  private  opinion  that  Miles  had 
been  ruined  by  the  over-indulgence  of  his  mother 
and  the  ease  of  taking  the  lowest  standard  of  his 
companions.  But  he  did  not  care  to  ask  questions  ; 
it  was  enough  to  know  that  Miles  existed.  It  was 
pain  enough  to  fear  that  at  any  moment  the  name 
of  his  brother-in-law  might  be  seen  in  the  lurid 
heading  of  a  newspaper,  weighted  with  charges 
that  would  be  irrefutable.  When  that  would 
happen  —  and  Arthur  felt  that  it  was  only 
a  question  of  time  —  it  would  be  necessary  for 
him  to  stand  by  this  hateful  relative  ;  for  he  knew 


244      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

that  if  all  the  crimes  forbidden  by  the  Decalogue 
were  proven  against  Miles,  Mary  would  strive  to 
hold  him  innocent ;  not  only  that,  but  she  would 
insist  on  his  holding  him  innocent.  The  Long- 
worthys  had,  he  often  said  to  himself,  done  well 
to  flee  from  a  country  that  contained  Miles. 

Nellie  was  bad  enough ;  she  was  vulgar,  yet 
she  must  be  socially  recognized.  And  she  had 
a  way  of  sending  all  sorts  of  people  to  him  with 
letters  of  introduction,  beginning,  "  Dear  Brother." 
It  was  awkward. 

It  was  absolutely  necessary  that  the  Fitzgeralds 
should  give  a  dinner  party  at  least  every  six 
months  to  these  obnoxious  relatives;  and  the 
time  had  approached  shortly  after  Patrick  Des- 
mond's arrival  in  New  York.  Nellie  had  hinted 
several  times  that  it  ought  to  be  an  affair  of  great 
splendor  on  this  special  occasion,  because  of  Miles' 
additional  prestige  in  the  political  world.  Nellie 
did  not  explain  why  Miles  ought  to  be  considered 
as  more  splendid  than  usual,  but  it  was  plainly 
her  fixed  opinion  that  he  was  the  most  brilliant  of 
political  stars. 

"I  will  have  nobody  to  meet  them,  Mary," 
Arthur  said,  firmly ;  "  because  there  is  nobody 
that  will  understand  them.  Make  the  table 
groan  with  flowers  and  ornaments,  if  you  like, 
but  don't  ask  other  people." 

Mary's  countenance  fell.  "Nellie  will  feel 
slighted." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      245 

"  Nellie  is  in  a  chronic  state  of  '  slightedness.' " 

**  But,  after  all,  Arthur,  they  are  my  relatives," 
^aid  Mary,  with  a  touch  of  reproach  in  her  voice. 

"  Nobody  would  suspect  it  if  you  didn't  tell ; 
and  I'm  sure  I  don't  see  why  we  should  be  anx- 
ious —  come,"  he  added,  seeing  tears  in  Mary's 
eyes ;  "  come,  don't  cry.  Ask  everybody  you  like ; 
but  if  that  woman  attempts  to  bring  little  Miley, 
and  to  keep  him  on  her  lap  during  dinner,  as  she 
did  the  last  time,  I  will  not  endure  it." 

"  Poor  little  Miley !  "  said  the  other,  with  a  sigh. 
"  Why  have  you  such  a  grudge  against  little 
Miley?" 

"  I  love  him,"  answered  Arthur,  politely,  "  when 
he  doesn't  paddle  in  the  soup." 

Mary  turned  away ;  this  was  levity.  Why 
could  Arthur  see  no  good  in  Miles  ?  she  asked 
in  her  heart.  Why,  he  asked  in  his,  should  she 
forgive  all  Miles'  sins,  and  treat  his  lightest  remark 
as  if  it  were  a  crime  ? 

"  I  suppose  I  may  ask  Father  Jackson  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  yes,"  said  Arthur.  "  He  will  understand, 
—  but  nobody  else.  If  you  do,  Mary,  I'll  go  out  of 
town.  I  must  go  to  a  place  called  Eaglescliff,  to 
look  into  the  condition  of  a  mine  there  belonging 
to  a  client.  Now,  if  you  ask  a  crowd  to  meet 
Nellie  and  Miles,  I'll  go  on  Wednesday  instead  of 
Thursday  ;  I  will  indeed." 

Mary  made  no  answer;  she  looked  down  at  a 


246      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  J)  ESMOND. 

note  she  held.  "  Nellie  says  Wednesday  would 
suit  her ;  and  she  wants  to  bring  her  cousin,  Mr. 
Desmond  —  " 

"A  nice  young  fellow,"  interrupted  Arthur, 
approvingly.  "  Miles  calls  him  his  secretary,  but 
he  is  out  of  place  in  that  position.  He  was  at 
my  office  yesterday  with  a  message." 

Mary's  face  brightened  and  then  clouded  a 
little.  "  She  proposes  to  bring  the  Baroness  von 
Homburg." 

"  The  Baroness  von  Humbug,  my  dear.  You'd 
better  say  no  to  that." 

"How  can  I?" 

"  Well,  let  her  come ;  but  it  is  awful." 

"  O,  Arthur !  it's  such  a  little  thing  to  do  for 
Miles,"  said  Mary,  piteously. 

Arthur  shook  his  head.  After  all,  Miles,  at  his 
worst,  could  not  deprive  him  of  his  cigar  and 
book. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        247 


XIX. 

The  heart  judges  finally ;  the  head  merely  argues. 

—  "  Paradoxes  of  a  Philosopher." 

ON  second  thoughts,  Mary  Fitzgerald  felt  some- 
what doubtful  about  the  Baroness  von  Homburg. 
She  might  be  —  but  Mary,  with  her  habitual  chari- 
tableness, dismissed  the  thought  —  an  adventuress, 
who  had  attached  herself  to  Nellie  with  interested 
motives.  To  refuse  to  ask  her  to  dinner  would  be 
to  add  another  grievance  to  those  which  Nellie 
already  cherished  against  her  sister-in-law.  Mary 
copied  the  Baroness'  address  on  an  envelope, 
which  Nellie  had  enclosed  in  her  note  to  Mary, 
with  a  broad  hint  that  a  dinner-party  on  Wednes- 
day would  be  acceptable.  Mary  debated  whether 
she  should  call  on  this  Baroness  or  not.  She  had 
little  time  to  spare  from  her  household  and  her 
poor,  so  she  solved  the  doubt  by  sending  her  card 
with  the  invitation  to  dinner.  A  dinner  to  the 
Galligans  was  no  easy  task.  Miles  had  been  sur- 
feited with  all  kinds  of  banquets ;  Nellie  had  be- 
come more  and  more  critical,  and  she  considered  it 
a  mark  of  high  breeding  to  appear  to  underrate 
any  new  thing  or  any  old  thing  she  had  never 
seen ;  consequently,  a  hostess  as  anxious  to  please 
as  Mary,  was  at  a  great  disadvantage. 

Mary  sighed  as  she  thought  of  the  trouble  she 


248      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

would  have  to  take  in  order  to  give  her  sister-in- 
law  no  pretence  for  feeling  "  slighted."  A  simple 
dinner  might  do  for  the  Longworthys,  but  never 
for  the  Galligans.  For  them  every  inch  of  silver 
in  the  house  had  to  be  brought  out,  and  the  table 
loaded  with  flowers.  Besides,  Nellie  knew  the 
price  of  every  flower  in  its  hothouse  season  ;  and 
she  was  as  likely  to  feel  "  hurt  "  because  there 
were  no  jonquils  on  the  table  in  February,  as  to 
have  her  sensitive  heart  lacerated  by  seeing  com- 
mon field  daisies  in  July.  Once  she  had  been 
led  away  from  the  dining-room  by  Miles  because 
there  was  only  one  soup,  when  —  as  she  had 
heard  on  the  best  authority  (that  of  the  cook)  — 
there  had  been  two  soups  served  oh  the  day  before 
for  the  Longworthys.  Miles  insisted  on  cham- 
pagne of  a  good  brand,  and  he  had  been  known  to 
insinuate  that  the  Fitzgeralds  were  capable  of  put- 
ting him  off  with  "  American  stuff."  Arthur's 
last  words  to  Mary  on  the  Monday  before  the 
dinner  party  had  been  on  this  subject. 

"  I  must  ask  as  a  favor,  my  dear,  that  you'll  let 
your  brother  have  all  the  champagne  he  wants.  I 
don't  like  to  hear  that  his  wife  makes  remarks  on 
our  stinginess." 

"  Oh  I  I  am  sure  poor  Nellie  has  been  misrepre- 
sented," Mary  began. 

"  Perhaps.  Don't  give  them  any  cause  to  com- 
plain. If  the  fel — if  Miles  drinks  too  much,  it 
is  his  own  affair." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      249 

Mary  changed  color.  "I  think,  Arthur,  that 
we  might  not  have  any  wine  for  this  once.  It 
might  be  a  lesson  to  Miles." 

Arthur  Fitzgerald  stared  at  his  wife.  "  A  dinner 
without  even  a  glass  of  claret.  Impossible !  " 

"  Couldn't  we  have  mineral  water,  or  something, 
instead  ?  " 

Arthur  laughed.  "  Ginger-beer  with  the  oysters, 
lemon  soda  with  the  roast,  and  Hunyadi  with  the 
dessert  —  hey,  my  dear  ?  Really,  it's  almost  asking 
too  much  that  one  should  commit  such  absurdities 
just  to  keep  Miles  from  drinking  to  excess." 

Mary  sighed.  If  Arthur  would  only  understand. 
"  Has  he  grown  worse  of  late  ?  "  Arthur  asked, 
more  serenely. 

"  I  am  afraid,  from  what  Nellie  says,  that  he  is 
not  the  same  as  he  was,"  Mary  answered ;  and  her 
imagination  suddenly  lent  beauty  and  tenderness 
to  the  past. 

"  He  can't  be  much  worse,"  murmured  Arthur, 
half-smiling,  half-sighing,  as  he  interpreted  his 
wife's  thought.  "  If  you  will  have  it  so,  Mary, 
I'll  order  no  champagne.  It's  vulgar  stuff,  any- 
how. But  I  can't  banish  a  little  claret." 

Mary  asked  no  more.  She  felt  that  this  was  a 
concession  costing  Arthur  much ;  but  she  found 
men  very  difficult  to  understand.  Why  wouldn't 
mineral  water  and  ginger-beer  have  done  just  as 
well  ?  She  had  sickened  with  horror  on  several 


250      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK   DESMOND. 

occasions  to  see  Miles'  face  grow  redder  and  redder, 
and  his  speech  thicker  and  thicker,  as  he  gulped 
glass  after  glass  of  his  favorite  wine,  and  added 
copious  draughts  of  whiskey  to  it  later.  Nellie, 
at  these  times,  had  not  been  entirely  comfortable  ; 
and  yet  there  was  a  certain  triumph  in  the  sight  of 
Miles  drinking  unlimited  champagne.  In  Nellie's 
eyes,  champagne  and  diamonds  were  the  palms 
awarded  to  the  highest  earthly  merit. 

Nellie  and  the  Baroness  von  Homburg  had 
become  very  friendly  in  a  few  days.  The  Baroness 
had  made  a  low  courtesy  when  Patrick  Desmond 
was  presented  to  her,  and  had  filled  Nellie's  ears 
with  rapturous  exclamations  on  his  personal  ap- 
pearance. In  her  heart  the  Baroness  named  him 
a  pleasant,  honest  young  man,  who  might  be  easily 
twisted  around  her  finger.  If  he  were  rich  he 
would  do  very  well  as  a  husband ;  she  said  to  her- 
self that  she  was  past  the  time  of  sentiment :  her 
one  desire  was  to  get  away  from  poverty  and  the 
pupils  in  vocal  music.  If  Nellie  faithfully  deliv- 
ered to  Desmond  all  the  complimentary  speeches 
she  had  made,  she  felt  sure  that  he  would  respond 
with  tender  interest.  There  was  one  male  quality 
in  which  the  Baroness  implicitly  believed,  and 
that  was  vanity.  The  woman,  she  held,  who 
offered  incense  to  the  vanity  of  men,  might  marry 
anybody  she  choose. 

Desmond's  openly  expressed  horror  of  the  con- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     251 

dition  of  social  life  as  illustrated  by  Lize  Smith's 
party  —  which  had  ended  with  a  great  flow  of 
beer  and  several  black  eyes,  —  had  nettled  his 
cousin.  The  idea  of  a  rustic  coming  from  the 
country  criticising  New  Yorkers.  Lize  Smith  was 
only  Lize  Smith,  of  course,  —  she  hadn't  had  ad- 
vantages ;  but  the  life  that  had  been  good  enough 
for  Nellie  Galligan  ought  to  be  good  enough  for 
Patrick  Desmond.  Still  Patrick  would  talk  about 
it ;  the  whole  scene  had  shocked  him  beyond 
measure,  and  it  had  set  him  to  reading  John 
Longworthy's  book,  and  puzzling  about  means  of 
remedy.  Desmond  loved  money,  because,  in  his 
experience,  money  seemed  to  be  the  only  natural 
power  that  could  accomplish  anything  in  the 
world.  After  that  he  desired  the  advancement  of 
men  of  his  own  blood ;  he  was  none  the  less  an 
American  that  he  wished  his  own  people  —  people 
of  his  own  religion  and  race  —  not  to  dominate 
especially,  but  to  stand  in  the  van  of  progress. 
Strange  to  say,  he  never  gave  the  suffering  of 
people  of  other  blood  than  his  own  a  thought. 
His  sympathy  and  horror  were  drawn  out  by  the 
degradation  of  the  Grogans,  the  Smiths,  and 
others  of  Irish  descent.  This  was  partially  due  to 
the  fact  that  his  mother  had  imbued  him  with  a 
chivalric  and  romantic  idea  of  the  Irish  past.  This 
had  something  to  do  with  his  revolt  against  the 
condition  of  affairs  in  Redwood.  Every  Irishman 


252      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

is  a  natural  aristocrat;  and,  in  Desmond's  case, 
the  tendency  had  assumed  its  best  form.  He  did 
not  look  down  on  others :  the  nobleness  of  his 
blood  obliged  him  to  keep  himself  up. 

At  Redwood,  money  had  appeared  to  him  to  be 
the  great  object  of  life ;  in  New  York,  it  did  not 
seem  to  him  so  powerful,  unless  connected  with 
other  things.  He  had  not  been  ten  days  in  Miles' 
employ  when  he  began  to  feel  that  poverty  was 
better  than  money  earned  as  Miles  was  earning  it. 

Miles'  next  election  was  very  doubtful.  Nellie's 
tact  had  been  useful  in  some  ways,  but  her  desire 
to  get  out  of  Miles'  own  district  had  not  had  a 
good  effect  on  the  voters.  Of  course  Miles  had 
kept  a  technical  residence  there,  and  Nellie  had 
come  and  gone  —  living  in  Harlem  only  a  while 
for  her  health  and  Miley's ;  but  there  was  a 
rumor,  growing  in  volume,  that  the  Galligans 
were  "  stuck  up."  This  did  not  affect  the  men 
much,  but  the  ladies  made  it  the  subject  of  much 
bitter  comment.  Again,  though  Miles  thought  it 
no  shame  to  pick  up  dollars  wherever  he  could  in 
the  lobby,  he  had  not  been  so  generous  as  he 
might  have  been.  Several  of  his  constituents  had 
been  allowed  to  go  to  the  Tombs  and  the  Island 
without  the  proper  influence  being  exerted  in  their 
behalf.  He  lied  with  ease  and  a  certain  grace; 
but  there  comes  a  time  when  the  man  who  has 
swallowed  the  light  and  airy  and  palatable  confec- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      253 

tion  looks  for  something  more  solid.  But  the  fact 
was  that  Miles  had  been  so  much  occupied  in  tak- 
ing care  of  himself  that  he  had  not  given  the 
proper  degree  of  attention  to  his  constituents. 

Desmond,  let  into  the  secrets  of  Miles'  politics, 
had  become  sick  at  heart ;  for  he  was  both  honest 
and  honorable. 

"  What  a  bird  you  are,"  Miles  said,  jocosely, 
after  he  had  unveiled  a  scheme  of  securing  a 
check  from  a  gas  company  under  false  pretences. 
"  Money  makes  things  go ;  nobody  considers  it 
wrong  to  get  what  he  can.  Business  is  business, 
and  politics  is  the  tallest  kind  of  business." 

"  But  how  can  you  —  "  Patrick  paused,  and  then 
went  on  —  "  how  can  you  go  to  confession  ?  " 

Miles  frowned;  his  little  eyes  gleamed  om- 
inously. "  Just  you  mind  your  business,  young 
fellow.  Don't  preach  to  me.  I've  got  to  make 
a  living." 

Desmond's  blood  was  up.  "  Well,  I've  not  got 
to  help  you  make  a  living  in  a  dishonest  way,"  he 
said,  turning  very  red ;  "  and  after  this  week  you 
must  find  somebody  else  to  do  your  work." 

Miles  recovered  his  temper.  Desmond  wrote 
good  letters,  and  took  a  great  deal  of  work  off  his 
hands ;  it  would  not  do  to  break  with  him.  He 
only  said  :  "  You'll  die  in  an  almshouse  yet." 

"I'll  die  honest,  at  any  rate,"  Patrick  had  an- 
swered. 


254     THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Desmond  brooded  over  this  conversation ;  he 
determined  to  resign  his  office  as  private  secretary. 
The  artificiality,  the  falsity  of  the  Galligans'  life, 
affected  him  as  the  air  of  a  crowded  street-car 
affects  the  skater  who  has  just  been  careering  over 
clear  ice  on  a  bracing  winter  day.  He  would  take 
his  chances  in  New  York ;  he  would  succeed  hon- 
estly, and  never  return  to  Redwood  until  he  had 
succeeded. 

Nellie  was  determined  to  do  away  with  the  im- 
pression that  Lize  Smith's  party  had  made  on 
Desmond's  mind.  Before  taking  him  to  the  abode 
of  her  mother  in  The  Anchor  —  a  presentation 
which  must  soon  be  accomplished, — she  deter- 
mined to  introduce  him  to  the  Fitzgerald  interior. 
This  would  show  him  that  the  social  surround- 
ings of  the  Hon.  Miles  were  not  entirely  of  the 
Lize  Smith  kind.  She  was  irritated  against  Des- 
mond. She  believed  that  he  was  sarcastic ;  he 
seldom  admired  anything  and  never  expressed  sur- 
prise ;  he  was  too  independent.  At  the  same  time 
she  respected  him;  she  would  have  liked  him 
much  better  had  he  grovelled  before  the  red  vel- 
vet portieres,  and  admitted  that  he  had  never  seen 
a  finger-bowl  before. 

On  the  day  before  Mary  Fitzgerald's  dinner 
party,  Patrick  received  the  packet  of  the  Fty- 
Away  Mines  shares  from  Eleanor.  A  little  note, 
very  formally  written,  accompanied  it.  It  ran: 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      255 

DEAR  SIR,  — I  am  under  the  impression  that  these 
shares  belong  to  you.  My  father  cannot  speak  yet,  nor 
can  he  write;  and  the  chances  are  that  he  never  will  do 
either.  Later,  a  clearer  explanation  of  the  unconscious 
wrong  my  father  has  done  you  may  be  forthcoming.  At 
present  I  can  only  return  to  you  the  mere  symbols  of 
what  was  yours.  I  have  retained  some  money — which, 
they  tell  me,  belonged  to  my  mother  —  until  I  can  begin 
to  repay  you  in  earnest.  In  sending  you  the  packet,  I 
merely  want  to  show  you  that  I  have  a  desire  to  undo 
what  has  been  inadvertently  done. 
Yours  sincerely, 

ELEANOR  KEDWOOD. 

Desmond  looked  at  the  packet  and  read  and 
re-read  the  note.  At  first  he  did  not  understand 
the  meaning  of  it.  And  then  his  mother's  words 
came  back  to  him,  —  the  words  uttered  in  expla- 
nation of  the  unfortunate  letter  which  had  out- 
lived Mrs.  Redwood,  and  which  was  responsible 
for  Eleanor's  present  action.  Patrick  examined 
the  shares,  representing  over  two  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars,  transferred  to  him  with  every  neces- 
sary and  unnecessary  legal  precaution.  He  had 
read  with  intense  interest  all  the  newspaper 
accounts  of  the  Fly-Away  Mines  disaster;  he 
knew  that  those  shares  of  stock  were  worth 
almost  nothing,  but  this  did  not  lessen  in  his  eyes 
the  nobility  of  Eleanor's  action.  Smaller-minded 
people  might  have  called  it  a  cheap  kind  of  resti- 
tution, but  Desmond  understood  it  better  than 


256     THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

such  minds  could.  He  looked  long  at  the  few 
words  she  had  written ;  they  were  very  precious 
to  him.  How  gracious,  how  dignified,  how  noble 
she  was,  —  how  much  more  gracious  and  noble 
now  in  her  poverty  than  when  she  had  been  the 
comparatively  rich  Miss  Redwood,  of  Redwood. 
His  heart  melted  at  the  thought  of  her,  perhaps 
deserted  by  her  friends,  perhaps  in  agony  of 
spirit  over  the  future.  His  mother  must  absolve 
him  from  his  promise  ;  his  mother  would  see  now 
that  Eleanor  had  no  champion  but  him  against  the 
world.  He  compared  the  life  around  him  with 
the  ideal  life  of  love-lightened  poverty  he  might 
lead  with  Eleanor  Redwood  as  his  wife.  She  was 
not  a  Catholic,  it  was  true ;  but  she  was  one  of 
those  who  slip  into  the  Church,  and  find  they  are 
almost  naturally  part  of  it.  She  would  be  a 
Catholic,  and  never  remember  that  she  had  been 
anything  else. 

He  stood  at  twilight  in  the  little  room  of  the 
hotel  —  a  very  carelessly  kept  and  cheap  one,  — 
where  the  Galligans  had  placed  him ;  he  stood  in 
the  twilight,  and  lost  himself  in  this  dream.  Sud- 
denly a  thought  passed  through  his  mind,  like  a 
flash  revealing  the  unreality  of  it  all.  It  was 
borne  in  upon  him  that  his  mother  would  say  only 
a  few  words  when  he  should  tell  her  of  Eleanor's 
act,  but  these  words  would  cut  him  as  a  sword. 
She  would  say  that  Eleanor  was  insane,  as  her 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      257 

mother  had  been.  He  realized  that,  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  he  was  not  sure  of  his  mother's 
sympathy.  He  lit  the  gas  with  a  sigh,  and  exam- 
ined the  certificates  carefully ;  and  he  realized 
that  if  the  Fly-Away  Mines  had  not  been  flooded, 
he  would  now  be  in  legal  possession  of  two  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars.  He  drew  a  deep  breath 
and  his  color  came  and  went.  What  strength, 
what  power  would  have  been  his.  The  hopes, 
the  desires,  of  his  later  life  were  in  his  grasp ;  but 
these  were  as  worthless  as  withered  leaves, — yet 
not  as  worthless,  since  truth  and  honor  were  rep- 
resented by  them. 


258      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

XX. 

A  trifle  ?  there  are  no  trifles  in  life.  Do  you  call  the  pebble 
that  lames  the  horse  and  makes  the  difference  between  life 
and  death  a  trifle  ?  —  MAKKSTBIN. 

WITH  all  her  tolerance,  Mary  Fitzgerald  did 
her  sister-in-law  injustice  in  her  thoughts.  It 
seemed  to  her  that  if  Miles  had  married  a  higher 
type  of  woman,  he  might  have  developed  all  those 
good  qualities  which  she  believed  existed  in  him. 
But  the  truth  was  the  reverse  of  this.  If  Nellie 
had  married  -a  man  who  was  her  superior,  she 
would  not  only  have  kept  pace  with  him,  but 
doubtless  gone  before  him  in  time.  Nevertheless, 
Mary,  in  her  thoughts,  was  prone  to  throw  the 
burden  of  Miles'  sins  on  the  temperament  and 
lack  of  training  of  his  wife. 

Women,  as  a  rule,  are  not  only  better  but 
cleverer  than  men ;  and  Nellie,  though  she  was 
not  at  all  shocked  by  Miles'  smaller  dishonesties, 
would  have  shrunk  with  horror  from  anything 
she  believed  to  be  a  great  sin.  She  had  the  won- 
derful adaptability  of  her  race,  with  that  tendency 
toward  the  acquirement  of  good  taste  which  is 
a  peculiar  quality  of  American  women.  She  was 
inclined  to  laugh  or  to  sneer  at  any  new  thing 
adopted  by  people  whom  she  regarded  as  in  her 
own  station  of  life  ;  but  let  her  once  see  this 
new  thing,  in  manners,  or  speech,  or  ornament,  in 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     259 

the  possession  of  those  whom  she  in  her  heart  re- 
garded as  above  her,  and  she  immediately  adopted 
it  as  her  own.  She  might  recall  the  days  when 
Mary  Fitzgerald  was  "  only  a  school  teacher " ; 
but  still  she  held  Mary  in  high  respect  as  a 
social  luminary,  and  she  was  very  willing  to  im- 
itate her,  provided  that  Mary  should  not  know  it. 

The  days  preceding  the  Fitzgerald  dinner 
party  were  very  delightful  to  Nellie.  She  made 
a  pilgrimage  down  to  Lize  Smith's,  in  order  to  talk 
about  the  Baroness.  She  kept  her  unfortunate 
dressmaker  on  the  rack,  and  the  occupants  of  the 
adjoining  flats  wished  that  "  Comrades,"  and 
"  Only  a  Violet,"  had  never  been  invented;  for, 
we  must  remember,  she  had  the  courage  of  a 
sincere  conviction  of  the  greatness  of  her  vocal 
abilities  and  the  perfection  of  Professor  Fortes- 
cue's  method. 

It  seems  hard  to  understand  how  deeply  a  very 
simple  social  function  can  be  made  to  agitate 
many  people  not  immediately  concerned  in  it. 
Lize  Smith  and  all  the  Smith  connections  were 
deeply  moved  by  the  entrance  of  Nellie  into 
society  as  the  chaperon  of  a  baroness.  And  young 
Grogan  actually  composed  a  song  on  the  subject, 
which  was  warbled  with  great  effect  in  Miles' 
district,  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  accordion. 

The  Bayards  at  Redwood  were  anxious  about 
the  outcome  of  the  dinner ;  for  was  not  the  Baron- 


260      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

ess  to  have  her  chance  of  capturing  the  suscep- 
tible and  simple  Desmond  and  the  mining  stock? 
Miles  was  somewhat  agitated,  too ;  for,  though  he 
disliked  Arthur  Fitzgerald,  he  knew  that  he  was 
gaining  influence  in  important  places ;  and,  as  he 
was  not  too  sure  of  his  political  "  pull  "  for  the 
next  session,  he  felt  that  it  would  be  well  to  ar- 
range something  pleasant  into  which  he  might 
fall,  —  something  to  which  a  man  might  be  nom- 
inated by  influence,  not  elected  by  votes. 

Desmond  was  seriously  unhappy  during  these 
days.  In  the  first  place,  he  was  homesick  ;  in  the 
second,  he  was  horrified  by  the  cynical  dishonesty 
of  Miles  and  most  of  his  associates ;  he  felt  that 
he  must  cut  loose  from  an  employment  which  was 
likely  to  make  him  an  accessory  in  what  seemed 
to  Miles  "  legitimate  "  dishonesty.  In  the  third 
place,  he  wanted  very  much  to  see  Eleanor  Red- 
wood. She  was  in  affliction ;  she  had  lately  per- 
formed an  act  of  restitution  which  made  him 
regard  her  as  the  most  noble  of  women  ;  and  yet 
he  could  not  go  near  her  without  his  mother's 
permission,  for  he  had  given  his  word.  In  the 
fourth  place,  Nellie  was  badgering  him  about  the 
Fitzgerald  dinner  party  ;  she  gave  him  lessons  in 
etiquette  in  season  and  out  of  season ;  she  declared 
that  he  must  have  an  evening  suit.  Patrick  re- 
belled at  this ;  he  said  that  he  could  not  afford 
such  a  luxury. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      261 

"My  coat  was  good  enough  at  Judge  Red- 
wood's —  the  best  house  in  our  town,"  he  said ; 
"  and  it  will  have  to  do." 

"  Good  gracious  !  "  cried  Nellie.  "  How  can 
you  compare  a  country  party  with  a  dinner  at  my 
brother-in-law's?  And  what  will  the  Baroness 
think  of  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  care,"  Patrick  said.  "  Scarcely  any- 
body at  home  wears  those  old-fashioned,  claw- 
hammer coats  in  the  evening,  and  I  don't  think 
Redwood  is  much  behind  in  the  fashion." 

Nellie  raised  her  hands  in  horror.  "  You'll 
spoil  the  looks  of  the  table,  that's  all ;  and  make 
me  ashamed  to  tell  people  that  you  are  my 
cousin." 

"  I  can't  help  it,  —  I'll  stay  at  home,  then," 
he  replied,  obstinately.  "  Besides,  I  can't  afford  it." 

"  Miles  will  get  it  for  you  on  credit,"  Nellie 
went  on,  brightening ;  "  and  you  can't  imagine 
how  well  you'll  look  in  it." 

But  Patrick  was  obdurate.  The  thought  of 
getting  anything  on  credit  —  a  very  familiar  one 
to  Nellie  —  filled  him  with  disgust.  Like  a  wise 
woman,  she  discovered  that  the  inevitable  must 
be  accepted.  Her  cousin  would  have  to  go  as  the 
young  man  from  the  country ;  and  Nellie  rehearsed 
in  her  mind  the  half-sympathetic,  half-amused 
attitude  she  would  take  toward  him.  He  heartily 
wished  it  were  over.  It  is  probable  that  he  would 


262      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

have  refused  to  go,  had  he  not  been  drawn  to 
Arthur  Fitzgerald  at  his  first  meeting,  and  anxious 
to  find  out  whether  New  York  was  entirely  made 
up  of  political  cormorants,  pretentious  vulgarians, 
and  folk  of  the  Jim  Smith  and  Grogan  types. 

The  Fitzgeralds  had  not  escaped  a  slight  do- 
mestic ripple  over  the  question  of  wine.  Mary, 
after  some  thought,  had  again  timidly  suggested 
that,  in  view  of  Miles'  habits,  perhaps  it  would 
be  well  not  to  have  any  wine  at  the  table.  But 
Arthur,  who  was  tractable  on  all  other  subjects, 
almost  lost  his  temper. 

"  I  am  obliged  to  receive  Miles  as  cordially  as 
possible,  because  he  is  your  brother;  but  you 
know,  Mary,  I  can't  be  expected  to  inconvenience 
myself  and  all  my  guests  simply  because  he  is 
inclined  to  make  a  hog  of  himself." 

He  regretted  these  words  the  moment  he  had 
uttered  them;  he  knew  that  he  was  somewhat 
jealous  of  Miles,  and  this  knowledge  made  it  all 
the  more  difficult  for  him  to  admit  that  he  had 
been  rude  about  him.  It  would  have  exasperated 
any  man  to  see  a  woman  like  Mary  overlooking 
his  perfections,  or  taking  them  as  a  matter  of 
course,  in  order  to  burn  incense  and  drop  tears 
before  a  hideous  idol  like  Miles.  And,  to  make 
things  worse,  Mary  actually  cried.  For  almost 
the  first  time  in  their  married  life  Arthur  had 
been  unpleasant,  and  about  such  a  little  thing. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     263 

Why,  when  so  much  was  at  stake,  should  he  in- 
sist on  such  a  trifle  ?  Lemonade  was  an  eminently 
respectable  and  safe  drink ;  and  if  there  were 
only  lemonade  on  the  table,  or  some  nice  mineral 
water,  Miles  would  be  safe  for  one  evening  at 
least.  The  consequence  of  this  was  that  Arthur 
went  down  to  his  office  in  a  discontented  mood ; 
and  Mary,  who  could  condone  the  gravest  of 
Miles'  offences,  felt  that  her  husband  had  failed 
her  at  a  supreme  moment. 

Probably  the  only  person  who  looked  forward 
to  the  dinner  party  with  real  satisfaction  was  the 
Baroness.  She  had  come  to  that  time  of  life  when 
a  good  dinner,  with  all  the  luxuries  of  lights  and 
flowers,  is  a  matter  for  rejoicing ;  and  good  dinners 
were  not  common  now  in  her  experience,  although 
she  was  a  baroness.  And  so  she  mended  her  frip- 
peries and  made  her  train  more  imposing,  with  a 
certain  feeling  of  pleasant  expectation. 

Mary  had  spared  no  pains  to  make  Nellie  feel 
that  the  dinner  was  better  than  anything  hitherto 
done  in  the  Fitzgerald  household.  And  when 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Miles  Galligan,  the  Baroness  von 
Homburg,  and  Patrick  Desmond  arrived,  they 
found  the  drawing-room  decorated  with  palms  and 
glowing  with  the  light  of  a  dozen  red-shaded 
lamps.  Mary,  clothed  in  soft  gray,  with  a  few 
red  roses  at  her  belt,  welcomed  the  obnoxious 
guests  with  a  gentle  warmth  that  caused  Arthur 


264      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

to  wish  that  he  had  made  the  dinner  table  a  lagoon 
of  mineral  water  and  lemonade.  After  all,  who 
could  be  so  gentle  and  tender  as  Mary?  Her 
every  movement  had  a  grace  and  distinction  which 
the  highest  breeding  could  not  give ;  it  came 
from  habitual  kindness  and  courtesy  of  ^nought. 
And  Arthur,  appreciating  this,  resolved  to  make 
amends  for  his  rejection  of  the  eminently  respect- 
able lemonade  by  being  as  polite  to  Miles  as  he 
possibly  could.  He  found  it  easy  enough  to  re- 
ceive Desmond  cordially ;  there  was  a  frankness 
and  lucidity  about  the  latter  that  attracted  other 
good  men. 

While  Nellie  was  apologizing  in  whispers  to  the 
Baroness  for  the  absence  of  the  dress  suit  which 
Desmond  ought  to  have  worn,  and  fancying  that 
it  was  the  subject  of  everybody's  thoughts,  Mary 
YV  as  looking  at  him  and  making  up  her  mind  that 
he  had  a  good  mother ;  Arthur  was  thinking  of 
his  evident  honesty,  and  the  Baroness  concluding 
that  he  was  handsome,  but  too  ignorant  to  know 
that  a  title  was  worth  anything.  Nellie,  if 
Patrick's  frock-coat  could  have  been  blotted  from 
her  mind,  would  have  been  satisfied  for  the  mo- 
ment. Her  red  velvet  gown,  with  a  pink  and 
silver  front,  and  a  train  to  match,  was  much  finer 
than  the  Baroness'  blue  brocade ;  and  Miles,  in  a 
new  evening  suit,  with  a  large  red  rose  in  his 
lapel,  and  a  cluster  of  diamonds  on  a  much- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      265 

embroidered  shirt  front,  contented  her  aesthetic 
sense.  His  face  was  somewhat  redder  than  an 
artist  would  have  considered  natural,  and  he 
certainly  was  growing  stout,  —  so  stout  that  he 
had  acquired  a  "  presence  "  ;  and  his  eyes,  accord- 
ing to  some  of  his  brilliant  friends,  had  "  a  double 
chin  "  around  them.  Looking  at  him,  Nellie  felt 
that  the  Galligans  were  on  the  crest  of  the  wave. 

When  Father  Jackson  came  in,  Nellie  suddenly 
elevated  her  fan  and  blushed.  Her  frock  was  not 
nearly  so  low  in  the  neck  as  that  of  the  Baroness, 
who  was  entirely  unembarrassed.  Father  Jackson 
looked  somewhat  surprised,  as  Nellie  was  com- 
pelled to  lower  her  fan  in  order  to  shake  hands 
with  him.  He  was  not  prudish  by  any  means ; 
but  he  asked  Mary  Fitzgerald  in  an  audible  voice, 
which  made  Nellie  furious,  whether  the  ladies 
were  Catholics.  Nellie  afterward  said  that  priests 
ought  to  be  taught  in  seminaries  something  about 
the  customs  of  fashionable  society.  Since  she 
had  become  a  politician  Nellie  was  very  critical 
about  priests. 

Father  Jackson  was  young  and  clever,  at  once 
intelligent  and  sympathetic,  with  an  air  of  de- 
tachment from  the  world,  and  yet  with  an  evident 
knowledge  of  its  dangers.  He  was  tall  and  slight, 
with  a  suspicion  of  delicacy  in  his  looks  that 
forced  everybody  to  wonder  at  his  energy.  Earn- 
estness and  enthusiasm  seemed  to  supply  the 


266      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

place  of  physical  strength.  His  qualities  and 
manner  were  typical  of  the  younger  priests  of 
New  York  ;  and  Arthur  often  thanked  God  in 
his  heart  that  there  were  many  priests  in  his 
native  city  of  the  metal  that  made  his  friend, 
Father  Jackson,  so  attractive  and  valuable. 

Desmond's  heart  warmed  toward  Father  Jack- 
son at  once ;  and  he  felt  a  subtle  sympathy  with 
Arthur  Fitzgerald,  too,  —  a  sympathy  which  only 
the  pure  in  heart  feel  for  one  another,  and  which 
is  very  different  from  that  which  arises  from  a 
coincidence  of  intellectual  tastes.  Desmond  felt 
that,  knowing  Jack  C onion  as  he  did,  he  had  the 
key  to  Father  Jackson's  character. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATEICK  DESMOND.      267 


XXI. 

Into  all  our  lives  comes  eA'ery  year  some  event  which,  put 
into  a  novel,  would  seem  utterly  improbable. 

—  "  Paradoxes  of  a  Philosopher." 

THE  atmosphere  of  the  Fitzgeralds'  dinner  was 
different  from  that  of  Eleanor  Redwood's  Coffee ; 
but,  in  spite  of  all  those  pretty  devices  with  which 
a  careful  hostess  makes  a  dinner  both  stately  and 
graceful  —  or,  rather,  because  of  them  —  Patrick 
enjoyed  himself.  The  Baroness,  who  sat  next  to 
him,  annoyed  him  a  little  at  first ;  he  soon  under- 
stood, however,  that  she  intended  to  be  amiable, 
although  her  "  society  "  jargon  was  without  much 
meaning  to  him.  He  thought  it  was  very  kind  of 
her  to  insist  on  pinning  the  rosebud  he  found  in 
his  napkin  to  the  lapel  of  his  coat.  This  little 
rnanosuvre  did  not  escape  Miles,  who  winked  at 
Nellie  ;  and  Patrick,  catching  this  telegraphic  sig- 
nal, felt  that  he  had  made  some  mistake.  The 
possibility  of  having  made  a  mistake  in  a  matter 
of  form  did  not  seem  such  an  awful  thing  in  New 
York  as  it  had  seemed  at  Redwood.  Mary's  gentle 
face  was  a  guarantee  of  tolerance  ;  and  during  all 
the  various  courses  Desmond  was  entirely  at  ease  ; 
for  nobody  could  fail  to  understand  that  her  main 
object  was  that  everybody  should  be  happy  for  the 
moment,  and  that  the  lights  and  the  flowers  and 


268      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

all  the  accessories  which  civilization  has  invented 
in  order  to  elevate  eating  into  an  art,  were  merely 
second  to  this  object. 

The  Baroness  herself,  who  was  a  direct  contrast 
to  Desmond  in  most  things,  lost  for  the  time  her 
cynicism ;  and,  as  she  glanced  from  the  Fitzgeralds 
to  Father  Jackson,  she  began  to  be  almost  per- 
suaded that  there  were  good  people  in  the 
world.  She  said  to  herself  that  if  she  had  four  or 
five  thousand  a  year,  she,  too,  could  exercise  all 
the  virtues  ;  but  as  she  looked  at  the  priest  again 
and  heard  him  speak,  she  recognized  that  the 
goodness  that  shone  in  his  face  was  not  dependent 
on  so  many  thousand  a  year.  Still,  she  was  dif- 
ferent from  these  people ;  their  goodness  must  be 
in  the  blood.  As  the  dinner  proceeded  she  became 
more  and  more  amiable  to  Desmond.  After  all, 
the  Bayards  were  clever ;  and  no  doubt  the  best 
way  of  getting  rid  of  the  music  pupils  would  be 
to  follow  their  lead.  To  the  delight  of  Nellie,  she 
took  a  leading  part  in  the  conversation,  and  re- 
lated the  most  brilliant  anecdotes  about  everybody 
in  society. 

"  I  find  it  so  difficult  to  found  a  salon  in  New 
York.  One  can  find  brilliant  men,  but  the  women 
are  so  difficult,"  she  observed,  with  a  sigh. 

"  What's  that,  ma'am  ?  "  asked  Miles,  awakening 
from  a  sulky  reverie,  occasioned  by  the  evident 
intention  of  his  brother-in-law  not  to  serve  cham- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      269 

pagne.  Both  Miles  and  Nellie  considered  this  a 
new  "  slight,"  and  were  determined  to  make  Mary- 
suffer  for  it.  The  Baroness  repeated  her  remark. 
Miles  laughed. 

"  Saloons !  "  he  said.  "  There  are  more  saloons 
in  New  York  now  than  you  can  shake  a  stick  at. 
If  you  want  to  start  a  saloon,  ma'am  —  and  you 
might  do  worse,  —  you've  only  to  pay  your  license 
and  go  in." 

The  Baroness  put  her  napkin  to  her  mouth. 
And  Nellie,  feeling  that  Miles  had  gone  wrong 
somehow,  looked  Arthur  Fitzgerald  full  in  the 
eyes  with  the  intention  of  promptly  avenging  the 
ghost  of  a  smile.  There  was  none,  however ;  and 
Mary,  on  whose  heart  Miles'  sixth  glass  of  claret 
was  making  a  scar,  did  not  notice  the  lapse.  The 
Baroness,  later,  made  a  capital  story  out  of  it. 
Nellie's  face  flushed  as  she  caught  that  lady's 
giggle  behind  her  napkin,  and  she  resolved  that 
this  impudence  should  not  go  unpunished ;  and 
Nellie  seldom  made  a  vain  resolution. 

Mary  was  pleased  with  Desmond  from  the  first ; 
to  Arthur's  disgust  he  actually  drank  water 
through  the  dinner,  but  this  only  raised  him  in 
her  estimation.  In  answer  to  Father  Jackson 
Arthur  announced  his  intention  of  going  to  Eagles- 
cliff. 

"  Eaglescliff  ?  "  asked  Desmond.  "  That  is  r-ar 
Redwood." 


270      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"So  I  believe,"  said  Fitzgerald.  "I  don't  care 
to  undertake  the  journey,  but  a  client  of  mine  is 
interested  in  the  Fly- A  way  stock." 

The  Baroness  raised  her  head. 

"  The  Fly- A  way  Mines  !  "  exclaimed  Desmond, 
speaking  with  an  energy  which  was  accentuated 
by  his  previous  silence.  "  I,  too,  am  interested, 
Mr.  Fitzgerald,  —  exceedingly  interested  ;  and  if 
you  will  permit  me  to  say  a  few  words  to  you  on 
business  —  " 

"  Certainly.  In  the  study,  when  we  have  our 
cigars,"  answered  Fitzgerald,  wondering  at  the 
young  man's  earnestness. 

Desmond  thanked  him. 

"  Redwood  ?  "  repeated  Mary.  "  Did  not  some- 
body mention  the  name  of  Redwood  ?  " 

"I  did,"  observed  Desmond. 

"  I  met  a  young  woman  of  that  name  yesterday," 
said  Mary  ;  "a  very  nice  person." 

"Was  it  Eleanor?"  cried  Desmond.  "But  it 
could  not  have  been  Eleanor  —  I  mean  Miss  Red- 
wood," he  added,  letting  his  voice  fall. 

"  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  met  Miss  Redwood  at  our 
house,"  said  Father  Jackson.  "  And  if  you  know 
her,  you  will  be  glad  to  hear  that,  although  a 
stranger  in  the  city  and  a  Protestant,  she  came 
first  to  St.  Anselm's.  The  rector  sent  me  down  to 
see  her,  and  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  happened  to  be  in 
the  parlor." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      271 

Desmond's  eyes  shone  like  stars.  "  Miss  Red- 
wood here —  here  in  New  York." 

Then  the  light  went  out  of  them :  he  remem- 
bered his  promise  to  his  mother.  The  meaning 
of  his  thoughts  seemed  plain  to  everybody  present, 
and  the  Baroness  concluded  that  she  need  not 
trouble  herself  to  be  agreeable  to  him  ;  henceforth 
she  gave  all  her  attention  to  a  very  delicious  ice. 
A  little  later  she  heard  Nellie  ask  Desmond  if  he 
did  not  find  the  "  dear  Baroness  "  very  sweet. 

"  Yes  —  of  course,"  Patrick  answered,  absent- 
mindedly.  "  She  has  a  kind,  motherly  way." 

Nellie  had  her  revenge,  for  the  Baroness  was 
informed  by  that  remark  that  her  little  arts  had 
failed;  and  Nellie  let  her  know  by  a  peculiarly 
artificial  smile  that  she,  too,  was  aware  of  it. 

When  the  ladies  had  gone,  Arthur  asked  Des- 
mond :  "  To  what  extent  are  you  interested  in 
the  Fly- A  way  Mines  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  lot  of  the  stock,  —  that  is  — " 

Arthur  interrupted  him  excitedly.  "  Then 
you  are  fortunate  !  This  telegram  came  just 
before  dinner." 

Patrick  read  the  words  on  the  yellow  slip  with 
dazzled  eyes : 

"  Fly -Away  Mines  in  good  condition.  Examiners  have 
found  a  new  and  immense  bed  of  coal.  Come.'1 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  he  asked. 


272      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  Mean !  "  exclaimed  Arthur.  "  You  had  better 
go  down  to  Eaglescliff  and  find  out.  It  means 
that  every  share  in  the  Fly- A  way  Mines  is  worth 
a  hundred  per  cent,  more  than  before  the  flood." 

Desmond's  brain  seemed  to  turn.  His  dream 
was  realized ;  he  had  succeeded  by  no  effort  of  his 
own ;  he  was  wealthy. 

There  was  music  in  the  drawing-room.  Arthur 
smoked  his  cigar  in  silence,  watching  Desmond's 
face.  The  sound  of  the  piano  above  mingled  with 
the  gentle  snore  from  the  corner  of  the  table, 
where  Miles  had  fallen  asleep.  Nellie's  voice 
could  be  heard  in  the  inevitable 

"  Only  a  violet,  dawling, 
Only  a  violet  blu-oo." 

Arthur  looked  from  Desmond's  face  to  Miles', 
and  he  was  struck  by  the  contrast  between  the 
two.  Desmond's  was  clear,  healthy,  capable  of 
nobility,  although  a  dark  cloud  rested  on  it  at  this 
moment ;  Miles',  stupid,  narrow,  animalized,  —  a 
very  different  face  from  that  of  the  young  Miles 
whom  Arthur  had  known  at  school.  Arthur 
looked  at  the  lines  traced  on  the  brow  and  around 
the  eyes,  and  shuddered.  Tt  was  a  relief  to  turn 
his  eyes  to  Desmond ;  he  asked  whether  this  frank, 
bright  face  could  ever  come  to  be  as  terrible  an 
index  of  selfishness  and  sin,  as  Miles'  face  was. 
A.nd  yet,  in  Arthur's  remembrance,  Miles'  face 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      273 

had  been  as  frank  and  as  honest,  if  not  as  hand- 
some, as  Desmond's. 

The  voice  above  became  louder.  Desmond  did 
not  speak  ;  his  social  education  had  not  reached 
that  point  where  a  man  speaks  often  principally 
because  he  has  nothing  to  say.  His  brain  was  in 
a  whirl.  Arthur,  whose  cigar  always  consoled 
him  for  silence  on  the  part  of  other  people,  hoped 
that  Nellie  would  soon  cease  her  screams.  The 
last  refrain  of  "  Only  a  Violet "  died  away.  It 
was  succeeded  by  a  rattling  Wagnerian  march  by 
the  Baroness,  and  still  Desmond  did  not  speak. 

Arthur  wished  Maiy  had  not  insisted  on  carry- 
ing Father  Jackson  into  the  drawing-room.  He 
was  anxious  not  to  appear  curious  about  Des- 
mond's connection  with  the  Fly-Away  Mines  ;  he 
could  not  think  of  anything  else  appropriate  to  the 
occasion ;  and  Miles'  snore  irritated  him  almost  as 
much  as  Nellie's  singing.  Father  Jackson  knew 
how  to  enliven  people ;  things  always  went  well 
when  he  was  about.  Arthur's  cigar  was  not  as 
great  a  comfort  as  usual.  The  flowers  on  the 
table  had  begun  to  droop,  and  the  candles  to  flare. 
Arthur  turned  his  eyes  toward  Miles,  with  the 
intention  of  shaking  him  if  he  did  not  awake  in 
a  few  minutes.  For  the  first  time  he  noticed  a 
dark  flush  on  his  brother-in-law's  cheeks  ;  it  was 
not  a  natural  color.  He  tapped  Desmond  on  the 
shoulder  and  asked  :  "  Is  he  well  ?  " 


274      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

The  young  man  gazed  at  Fitzgerald  as  if  he  had 
been  awakened  from  sleep.  "  Well  ?  Who  ?  " 

"  Oh !  Miles  Galligan,  of  course,  "  Arthur  said, 
impatiently.  "  He  looks  bad  to-night.  His  wife 
would  do  better  if  she  would  take  him  home,  in- 
stead of  bawling  upstairs." 

Desmond  looked  at  him  in  surprise ;  this  was 
not  the  elegant  manner  he  had  expected,  from 
Nellie's  description  of  Arthur. 

"I  suppose  I  seem  rude,"  Arthur  went  on, 
apologetically.  "  You  must  pardon  me.  But  the 
look  on  that  man's  face  startled  me.  The  blood 
is  all  in  his  head.  He  has  drunk  too  much." 

"  But  I  saw  you  offering  him  wine  very  often," 
said  Desmond,  with  a  frankness  that  startled 
Arthur,  but  gave  him  no  offence. 

"  I  didn't  think  the  fellow  was  a  brute.  He'll 
die  of  apoplexy  or  something.  Listen  to  that 
snore.  He  must  have  been  drinking  before  he 
came  here." 

"  Probably,"  said  Desmond.  "  People  in  poli- 
tics must  drink.  Shall  I  awaken  him  ?  " 

Miles  was  awakened  with  some  difficulty.  He 
asked  for  a  little  whiskey,  and  got  it;  for  Fitz- 
gerald was  one  of  those  hosts  who  would  allow  a 
man  to  have  delirium  tremens  at  his  table  rather 
than  appear  inhospitable. 

Just  at  this  moment  Father  Jackson  appeared, 
sent  by  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  for  the  men.  Miles 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     275 

grasped  the  decanter  and  was  about  to  refuse  to 
go ;  but  Father  Jackson,  with  a  smile  that  gilded 
a  great  deal  of  firmness,  took  his  arm  and  led  him 
up  to  the  drawing-room. 

"  I'm  afraid  the  ladies  will  not  excuse  us 
longer,"  Fitzgerald  said  to  Desmond ;  "  and  we 
shall  have  to  postpone  our  talk  in  the  study  until 
another  time.  Can  I  be  of  any  use  to  you  ?  " 

Desmond  stopped  him  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 
"  Did  you  really  mean  what  you  said  about  the 
Fly-Away  Mines  being  much  more  valuable  than 
they  were  before  the  accident  to  them  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Fitzgerald. 

"  Will  you  let  me  go  to  Eaglescliff  with  you  ?  " 

"  Certainly  —  if  you  can  get  Mr.  Galligan's  per- 
mission." 

"  Oh !  Mr.  Galligan  and  I  are  out.  His  kind  of 
politics  is  not  in  my  line,"  said  Desmond.  "  It 
may  be  all  right,  but  I  couldn't  go  about  feeling 
that  I  could  not  respect  myself  —  even  for  money." 

Fitzgerald  looked  at  him  curiously,  and  then 
spoke,  with  a  feeling  of  confidence  in  the  frank 
young  man : 

"  Although  Galligan  is  my  brother-in-law,  I  am 
glad  that  you  will  cut  loose  from  him.  But  let 
me  tell  you  that  politics  are  made  bad  by  the  men 
that  follow  them  for  money.  A  good  man  who 
does  not  make  money  a  god  may  be  a  politician. 
People  who  say  that  a  man  in  politics  must  be  bad 
lie  for  their  own  purposes." 


276      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICE:  DESMOND. 

"You  are  probably  right,"  observed  Desmond. 
"  But  a  man  that  resists  the  power  of  money  in 
our  day  must  be  both  great  and  good  ;  and  to 
resist  it  means  to  accomplish  more  good  than 
money  can  do." 

"  Halloo  ! "  said  Arthur,  with  new  interest. 
"  You  evidently  believe,  with  Cardinal  Manning, 
that  it  is  better  to  choose  poverty  and  faith  rather 
than  money  and  error.  But  have  you  been 
tempted  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  yes, "  said  Desmond,  flushing. 

"  And  have  you  resisted  ?  " 

"I  don't  know.  I  am  just  thinking  about  it 
now." 

Mary's  voice  was  heard  at  the  top  of  the  stairs ; 
and  Arthur  and  Patrick,  adjured  by  it  to  delay  no 
longer,  ascended.  Desmond  went  to  a  sofa  in  the 
corner,  where,  at  the  end  of  another  musical  fusil- 
lade by  the  Baroness,  he  was  joined  by  Father 
Jackson. 

"  You  spoke  about  Miss  Redwood,"  he  said  to 
the  priest.  "  I  am  astonished  to  hear  that  she  is 
in  the  city.  I  inferred  from  a  letter  I  had  from 
her  yesterday  that  she  was  still  at  Redwood." 

"  She  came  in  for  a  day  or  two.  It  seems  she  is 
about  to  settle  in  New  York  with  her  father." 

Desmond  started.  How  strange  it  seemed. 
How  could  he  ever  amagine  her  as  apart  from  her 
old  surroundings  ? 


TUE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      277 

"  It  seems  that  she  found  Father  Rodnor's  ad- 
dress among  her  mother's  papers  —  Father  Rodnor 
lias  been  the  pastor  of  St.  Anselm's  ever  since  it 
was  built,  back  in  the  fifties  —  and,  knowing  no- 
body else,  she  came  to  him  for  information  about 
the  city.  I  found  her  very  interesting;  and  she 
delighted  me  by  saying  that  she  had  come  because 
she  believed  that  she  could  trust  priests  more  than 
other  people  in  a  large  city,  because  the  priest  at 
Redwood  seemed  to  have  only  one  object  —  to  make 
his  people  good.  She  must  have  known  some  ex- 
emplar}' Catholics,"  added  Father  Jackson,  looking 
at  Desmond  with  a  smile. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  like  her,"  said  Desmond,  not 
noticing  the  smile.  "  I  wish  she  would  become  a 
Catholic." 

"  For  your  sake  or  her  own  ?  "  asked  Father 
Jackson,  with  a  touch  of  malice.  Desmond  was 
silent,  and  Father  Jackson  went  on  t  "  Father 
Rodnor  was  ill  when  she  came,  and  he  sent  me 
down.  But  he  has  a  wonderful  memory  for 
names ;  and  I  had  not  been  talking  to  her  for  five 
minutes  when  he  sent  a  letter  to  me  written  by 
Miss  Redwood's  mother,  from  which  it  appeared 
that,  after  years  of  carelessness,  she  had  come  to 
New  York  and  been  reconciled  to  the  Church. 
In  this  letter  she  asked  Father  Rodnor  to  tell  her 
how  best  to  go  about  making  the  fact  of  her 
return  to  the  Church  public.  The  young  lady 


178      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

looked  at  the  date,  and  said,  weeping  :  '  My  mother 
died  the  day  after  this  was  written.  Oh !  I  wish 
I  knew  more  about  her  Church.' ' 

Desmond  listened  with  all  his  ears  and  heart. 
Every  circumstance  seemed  to  be  bringing  him 
nearer  Eleanor.  Nobody  but  a  man  accustomed 
to  the  most  direct  intercourse  with  his  fellows 
would  have  asked  the  next  question. 

"  Was  Mrs.  Redwood  insane  at  any  time  ?  Did 
Father  Rodnor  know  ?  Excuse  the  question,"  he 
said,  as  he  noticed  Father  Jackson's  hesitation ; 
"  but  it  is  a  vital  one." 

Father  Jackson  still  hesitated.  Before  he  could 
reply,  Nellie  called  to  him  not  to  talk :  she  was 
about  to  sing  "  Comrades."  And  she  assumed  the 
proper  attitude  taught  her  by  Prof.  Fortescue, 
with  a  photograph  of  little  Miley  held  pathetically 
to  her  heart. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      279 


XXII. 

A  flash  of  lightning  may  kill,  but  it  reveals. 

—  "  Paradoxes  of  a  Philosopher." 

DESMOND  had  no  chance  to  follow  up  his 
question.  Father  Jackson  left  shortly  after 
Nellie  had  finished  her  dramatic  recitative ;  and 
then  the  Baroness,  who  had  now  no  reason  for 
propitiating  the  Fitzgeralds,  began  to  yawn  be- 
hind her  fan.  Miles  looked  at  his  watch  and 
said  it  was  time  to  go.  Arthur  asked  Desmond 
to  call  at  his  office  early  the  next  day,  and  Mary 
shook  hands  with  him  very  cordially. 

Once  in  his  little  room  in  the  hotel,  Desmond 
thought  the  situation  over.  How  wonderful  it 
was.  His  life  up  to  the  time  he  had  met  Eleanor 
Redwood  had  been  level,  like  a  prairie ;  but  from 
that  moment  the  breath  of  mountains  and  the 
sound  of  rushing  waters  had  come  into  it.  He 
had  longed  with  all  his  heart  for  riches ;  he  had 
dreamed  of  them.  Success  to  him  meant  the  pos- 
session of  money  and  nothing  more ;  he  had 
planned  over  and  over  again  the  means  by  which 
he  should  attain  this  success,  —  and  it  had  come. 
He  had  sometimes  an  uncomfortable  impression 
that  his  aims  were  not  sufficiently  high,  but  his 
self-respect  had  been  restored  by  disgust  he  felt  at 
the  sight  of  the  machinery  by  which  Miles  attained 


280      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

what  he  imagined  to  be  success ;  and  his  opinion 
of  himself  had  been  entirely  reestablished.  After 
all,  his  experience  in  New  York  had  taught  him 
that  he  would  shrink  with  all  his  heart  om  ill- 
gotten  gains ;  and  that,  much  as  he  valued  money, 
it  had  no  charms  for  him  unless  it  were  clean. 
He  had  a  higher  opinion  of  himself  when  he  dis- 
covered beyond  doubt  that  he  need  fear  no  temp- 
tation to  be  dishonest ;  he  might  be  hard  and 
even  avaricious,  he  said  to  himself,  but  not 
dishonest. 

The  sudden  news  about  the  shares  in  the  Fly- 
Away  Mines  had  changed  the  whole  aspect  of 
life.  If  it  were  true,  he  was  rich  beyond  his  most 
hopeful  expectations.  He  sat  up  late,  in  the 
sickly  light  of  the  unshaded  gas  jet,  in  his  little 
room  at  the  Tivoli  Hotel,  arranging  what  he  would 
do.  He  had  no  intention  of  taking  advantage  of 
Eleanor's  action  in  transferring  the  shares  to  him 
until  the  whole  matter  had  been  thoroughly  sifted. 
He  made  up  his  mind  to  act  at  once  with  Arthur 
Fitzgerald,  and  to  assume  the  proprietorship  of 
the  stock  until  the  question  of  its  real  ownership 
could  be  decided. 

He  knew  very  well  that  his  mother  would  insist 
on  his  returning  the  shares  to  Eleanor,  as  she 
would  look  on  the  transaction  as  based  entirely  on 
an  insane  freak  of  Mrs.  Redwood's,  not  understood 
by  Eleanor.  He  smiled  as  he  thought  that  it 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      281 

would  make  no  difference  in  the  end ;  for  he  now 
felt  sure  that  he  should  marry  Eleanor  Redwood. 
And  what  was  hers  would  be  his.  Was  he  over- 
confident? He  thought  not;  he  did  not  rebuke 
himself  for  egotism  or  conceit.  She  had  certainly 
showed  an  interest  in  him,  and  he  had  not  the 
slightest  doubt  of  his  interest  in  her.  But  the 
promise  to  his  mother?  He  must  be  absolved  from 
that ;  there  was  too  much  at  stake  to  let  that 
stand  in  the  way.  Rich,  and  with  Eleanor  Red- 
wood for  his  wife,  —  what  more  had  the  world  to 
offer  ?  He  would  be  great ;  he  would  be  powerful ; 
he  would  make  some  of  those  insolent  people  at 
home  bite  the  dust ;  he  would  repay  them  for  their 
arrogance.  In  possession  of  the  mightiest  of  all 
weapons,  he  would  conquer.  If  Miles  and  Nellie 
only  knew,  how  they  would  grovel  at  his  feet. 
He  laughed  aloud  at  the  thought.  It  would  make 
a  difference  to  everybody,  except,  indeed,  to  his 
mother,  to  Jack  Conlon,  and  to  Eleanor.  He 
could  not  imagine  Mrs.  Fitzgerald  or  Father  Jack- 
son giving  him  adulation  after  he  became  rich, 
but  he  saw  a  large  part  of  the  world  at  his  feet. 

His  mother  should  ride  in  a  carriage  and  have 
servants.  Here  an  uncomfortable  thought  in- 
truded itself.  It  occurred  to  him  as  probable  that 
his  mother  would  insist  on  staying  just  as  she  was. 
After  all,  what  could  money  do  for  her  ?  Her 
desires  and  her  mission  would  be  fulfilled  if  her 


282     THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

son  were  only  true  to  the  teachings  of  his  child- 
hood. He  felt  a  keen  pang  as  he  realized  that 
wealth  could  in  no  way  add  to  her  happiness. 

A  new  question  presented  itself :  was  it  gener- 
ous and  manly  to  consider  marriage  with  Eleanor 
from  a  mercenary  point  of  view?  He  admired, 
he  respected  her,  —  yes,  he  could  say  that  he  loved 
her ;  and  yet,  in  spite  of  this  affection,  it  was  the 
restoration  of  the  Fly-Away  Mines  which  had 
decided  him  to  propose  to  her  as  soon  as  possible. 
He  answered  this  by  remembering  that  he  would 
never  have  dared  to  speak  of  marriage  to  Eleanor 
until  he  had  an  assured  income ;  and  if  these 
shares  were  really  his  own,  the  income  was  his. 
She  could  be,  as  his  wife,  the  first  woman  in 
Redwood.  What  power,  what  strength  would  be 
his! 

The  plans  Desmond  had  entertained  of  helping 
to  drive  off  the  wolves  of  degradation  and  despair 
from  the  poor  in  New  York  seemed  vague  and 
Quixotic  now.  He  thought  only  of  his  increased 
power  and  consequence  in  the  world,  and  how  he 
would  use  them  to  abase  the  proud,  not  to  raise 
up  the  humble.  He  was  rich,  —  he  was  rich.  He 
looked  out  into  the  street,  empty  and  dimly  lit, 
and  said  to  himself  that  he  was  at  last  happy. 
Millions  all  over  the  world  would  willingly  make 
terrible  sacrifices  to  be  in  his  place;  hundreds 
would  commit  murder  to  feel  as  he  felt.  That 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      283 

imposing  building  across  the  street,  which  had 
before  seemed  to  him  such  an  overpowering 
symbol  of  wealth,  could  be  his  if  he  wanted  it. 
All  the  celebrated  people  of  whom  the  Baroness 
had  spoken  that  night  would  bow  down  to  him  if 
they  knew.  He  was  a  god,  and  he  believed  that 
all  Redwood  would  greet  him  as  a  god.  Even 
Eleanor,  who  might,  in  spite  of  all  her  good  sense, 
be  inclined  to  look  down  on  Patrick  Desmond 
from  her  social  height,  would  forget  all  in  the 
glitter  —  but  here  his  better  judgment  saved  him. 
He  acknowledged  to  himself  that  Eleanor  Red- 
wood was  above  the  influence  of  money.  At  last, 
weary  and  distracted,  he  went  to  sleep  and  dreamed 
of  gold. 

He  made  the  journey  to  Eaglescliff  on  the  next 
day  with  Arthur  Fitzgerald,  Miles  having  given  a 
reluctant  permission.  Arthur  found  him  some- 
what stupid,  for  his  mind  busied  itself  with  all 
sorts  of  plans.  They  did  not  get  off  at  Redwood, 
though  the  train  stopped  a  few  minutes,  and  Des- 
mond recognized  Bayard's  face  on  the  platform  of 
the  station. 

At  this  time  Arthur  Fitzgerald  was  in  the 
smoking-car,  having  left  his  silent  companion 
alone.  Bayard  boarded  the  train  and  took  the  seat 
beside  Desmond,  who  shook  hands  with  Bayard 
rather  coldly.  Bayard's  name  was  not  untarnished, 
but  this  had  not  prevented  him  from  patronizing 


284      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATEICK  DESMOND. 

Patrick  in  days  past.  Desmond,  conscious  of  his 
new  power,  assumed  an  air  of  reserve.  The  time 
would  come,  he  thought,  when  Bayard  would 
toady  to  him. 

"  Going  to  Eaglescliff  ?  "  Bayard  asked,  with 
seeming  indifference. 

"  Yes." 

"  I  suppose  you  met  my  sister-in-law,  Madame 
von  Homburg,  in  New  York." 

"Yes." 

"  An  interesting  woman  ?  " 

"  No  doubt." 

Bayard  looked  eagerly  at  Desmond ;  his  expres- 
sion did  not  change.  The  Baroness  had  evidently 
failed  in  any  attempt  she  might  have  made  to  cap- 
ture Desmond.  As  the  knowledge  of  this  grew  in 
his  mind,  Bayard  became  angry  against  his  wife  ; 
she  was  a  fool  to  imagine  that  her  romantic 
scheme  could  succeed.  After  all,  it  was  a  scheme 
of  desperation,  —  a  forlorn  hope. 

"You  are  interested  in  the  Fly- A  way  Mine 
shares,  I  believe  ?  "  Bayard  went  on. 

Desmond  turned  his  face  to  the  window,  and 
was  silent. 

"  I  know  you  are,"  said  Bayard,  quietly.  "  I 
know  that  Miss  Redwood  transferred  a  big  block 
of  the  stock  to  you." 

Desmond  reddened. 

"I  know  more  about  the  Mines  than  you  do, 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      285 

and,"  lie  said,  getting  close  to  Desmond,  "  if  you 
will  make  it  worth  my  while,  I  will  give  you  a 
point  or  two  which  will  make  you  rich." 

"  I  am  rich,"  replied  Desmond,  quietly. 

"  You  think  so  ?  "  said  Bayard.  "  Can  we  make 
an  arrangement  ?  " 

"  No,"  Desmond  answered,  looking  full  into 
Bayard's  face. 

Bayard  tore  up  a  telegram  he  held  in  his 
hand.  "  That,"  he  said,  throwing  the  fragments 
on  the  floor,  "  was  a  telegram  to  my  sister-in-law, 
containing  an  important  message  for  you.  If  you 
will  agree  to  make  it  worth  my  while,  I  will  give 
you  the  message  in  words." 

"I  hold  the  shares  of  stock  in  the  Fly-Away 
Mines  iu  trust,"  said  Desmond;  "and  I  cannot 
make  any  arrangement." 

"Intrust?"  repeated  Bayard.  "In  trust  for 
Eleanor  Redwood,  I  suppose,"  he  added,  with  a 
sneer.  "  And  yet  you  say  that  you  are  rich, 
which  means,  I  presume,  that  you  intend  to  marry 
Miss  Redwood,  and  acquire  the  '  trust,'  —  dear, 
guileless  young  man  !  " 

Desmond  turned  toward  him  angrily.  Bayard 
picked  up  the  fragments  of  the  telegraphic  mes- 
sages and  threw  them  out  the  window.  The 
wind  drove  them  back  into  the  next  seat,,  Des- 
mond, angry  as  he  was,  noticed  this ;  Bayard  did 
not. 


286      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  I  can  help  you  immensely,  if  you  will  let  me, " 
Bayard  said.  "  I  think  myself  that  the  best  way 
to  acquire  a  sound  legal  and  moral  title  to  those 
shares  would  be  to  marry  Miss  Redwood.  There's 
no  harm  in  that,  after  all ;  but  I  didn't  think  you 
were  so  smart." 

Desmond  seemed  odious  to  himself,  as  Bayard 
made  this  sketch  of  his  intentions. 

"  They're  yours,  of  course,"  Bayard  continued; 
"I  helped  to  transfer  them.  But  if  you  think 
that  you  hold  them  in  trust,  it's  a  different  mat- 
ter. If  Eleanor  Redwood  should  not  be  willing 
to  marry  an  Irish  papist,  you  will  be  in  a  difficult 
position.  In  that  case  you'll  transfer  the  shares 
to  her." 

Desmond  half-rose  from  his  seat,  but  Bayard 
went  away  quickly.  It  was  well  he  did,  for  Des- 
mond's wrath  was  great;  the  truth  in  the  sneer 
had  struck  home.  In  a  few  words  this  scheming 
creature  seemed  to  have  pulled  him  down  to  his 
own  level.  He  could  not  deny  the  truth  :  he  did 
not  consider  the  shares  his  own,  and  he  was  cal- 
culating on  his  marriage  with  Eleanor  Redwood 
to  make  them  his  own.  His  mother  had  bade  him 
look  on  marriage  as  pure  and  holy,  and  his 
religion  taught  him  that  it  was  a  sacrament.  His 
mother,  through  all  her  trials,  had  preserved  the 
memory  of  her  married  life  with  a  tender  senti- 
ment, which  affected  the  views  of  her  son  in 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      287 

regard  to  marriage.  She  lived  only  that  she 
might  make  her  son  serve  God,  and  that  she 
might  rejoin  in  Heaven  the  beloved  husband  of 
her  youth.  His  mother's  ideal  of  marriage  was 
her  son's,  and  he  suddenly  felt  like  an  outcast 
when  he  saw  his  picture  as  Bayard's  few  words 
had  drawn  it. 

Arthur  Fitzgerald  joined  him,  having  been 
refreshed  by  a  nap  and  several  cigars.  He  found 
Desmond  more  uncompanionable  than  ever ;  and, 
looking  around  for  occupation,  he  picked  up  the 
shreds  of  the  telegram  Bayard  had  torn  up.  He 
untwisted  them  mechanically. 

"Halloo!"  he  said.  "What's  this?"  He 
smoothed  out  the  bits  of  yellow  paper  carefully, 
and  read : 

"  If  interested  in  Desmond,  have  him  sell  Fly-Away 
Mine. 

H.  BAYARD." 

There  was  no  address.  Patrick  knew  to  whom 
it  had  been  directed.  To  Fitzgerald's  surprise, 
he  wakened  up  suddenly  and  told  him  the  story 
of  the  transfer  of  the  shares  and  his  interview 
with  Bayard. 

Fitzgerald  looked  grave.  "  Bayard  is  con- 
sidered to  be  an  expert  in  these  matter. .  We 
must  look  into  this.  My  duty  to  my  client 
requires  it." 


288      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  And  my  duty  to  Miss  Redwood.  I  am  con- 
vinced that  I  hold  her  shares  only  in  trust." 

"  No  doubt,"  assented  Arthur.     "  The  transfer 
was  the  work  of  an  impetuous  young  woman  in  — 
he  checked  himself ;  but  added,  with  a  smile  :  "  I 
see  now  why  you  resisted  the  fascinations  of  the 
Baroness." 

Desmond's  lips  closed  tightly.  Fitzgerald  said 
to  himself  that  he  had  been  mistaken  in  this  frank- 
looking  young  man ;  he  was  a  "  crank  "  ;  bits  of 
"  airy  persiflage  "  were  entirely  lost  on  him. 

Bayard  passed  them  as  they  stepped  on  the 
platform  of  the  Eaglescliff  station.  He  whispered 
to  Desmond :  "  Can  we  make  an  arrangement  ? 
It's  your  last  chance." 

"  We  have  concluded  to  sell — if  your  advice 
is  corroborated,"  Fitzgerald  said,  quickly.  He 
put  the  fragments  of  the  telegram  into  Bayard's 
hand  and  passed  on. 

Bayard  turned,  aghast ;  he  had  nothing  to  sell 
Desmond  now.  He  and  Laura  must  look  out  for 
another  investment  for  their  wits.  And  at  that 
moment  he  regretted  sincerely,  though  he  hated 
Desmond,  that  he  could  not  look  out  into  the 
world  with  his  honest  eyes. 

It  was  too  late  for  business  in  Eaglescliff.  All 
the  offices  were  closed.  There  were  only  a  few 
sleepy  loungers  about  the  hotel ;  and  Fitzgerald, 
though  wildly  impatient,  could  not  pick  up  any 
points  about  the  Mines. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      289 

Desmond  went  to  his  room.  Bayard  had  opened 
his  eyes.  He  despised  himself;  he  resolved  that 
he  would  make  Eleanor  rich  if  possible,  but  that 
he  would  never  ask  her  to  marry  him.  How 
could  he,  even  for  a  moment,  have  built  hopes  on 
wealth  that  never  could  be  his,  except  at  the  cost 
of  his  self-respect. 


290      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 


XXIII. 

We    expect    wisdom     of    God,     sympathy    of    humanity,     and 
direction  from  God  in  man.— "Golden  Words." 

IN  spite  of  all  her  counsellors  at  Redwood, 
Eleanor  had  clung  to  her  determination  to  go  to 
New  York.  It  seemed  to  her  that  any  change 
would  be  for  the  better.  She  and  her  father 
would  be  away  from  pitying  eyes;  and  at  this 
time  Eleanor  felt  that  she  could  endure  anything 
better  than  pity.  She  had  splendid  but  vague 
hopes  of  attaining  a  mastery  of  the  art  she  loved, 
and  of  being  independent,  through  the  work  of 
her  own  hands,  of  all  the  world.  She  had 
explained  all  the  circumstances  to  Belinda,  and 
a  stormy  scene  had  ensued.  Belinda  could  not 
imagine  the  Judge  or  Eleanor  in  any  atmosphere 
but  that  of  Redwood.  It  was  not  until  Eleanor 
had  made  a  flying  trip  to  New  York  and  returned 
that  Belinda  reached  the  conclusion  that  her  duty 
lay  among  the  outside  barbarians.  She  had  con- 
sulted Mr.  Stokes,  and  he  had  little  to  say,  except 
that  it  was  a  question  for  her  conscience  to  settle. 

"Conscience!"  cried  Belinda.  "What's  the 
use  of  talking  about  a  conscience  that  wabbles? 
My  conscience  is  like  quicksilver, — now  I  think 
I  have  a  grip  on  it,  and  then  I  haven't.  I  wish 
somebody  would  catch  it  for  me.  And  the  more 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      291 

I  search  the  Scriptures,  the  less  I  know  what  I 
ought  to  do.  I  know  Eleanor  Redwood's  making 
a  foolish  journey  to  New  York;  and  I  sometimes 
think  that  it  ain't  right  for  me  to  aid  or  abet  her 
going,  by  letting  her  know  I'd  go  under  any 
circumstances.  But  I  hate  to  think  of  those  two 
perishing  just  for  want  of  gumption  in  the  modern 
Babylon,  in  need  of  somebody  like  me." 

Mr.  Stokes  adjusted  his  blue  necktie  and  sighed. 
The  conversation  took  place  in  the  parlor  of  the 
Baptist  church,  after  the  morning  service.  Mr. 
Stokes  was  feeling  rather  disconsolate;  he  had 
given  up  all  thoughts  of  the  ministry,  and  he  was 
waiting  to  give  his  decision  to  the  minister.  This 
was  on  the  Sunday  after  Eleanor's  return  from 
New  York,  and  while  Arthur  Fitzgerald  and 
Desmond  were  at  Eaglescliff,  working  hard  to 
dissipate  the  various  obscurities  which  hung 
around  the  condition  of  the  Fly-Away  Mines. 

Mr.  Stokes  was  as  unhappy  as  Belinda,  and  as 
greatly  in  doubt.  He  knew  very  well  that,  after 
the  confession  he  had  made  to  her,  his  opinion  on 
any  subject  would  not  be  worth  much.  Mr. 
Stokes  had  represented  religion  to  Belinda  for 
some  time,  and  a  form  of  religion  which  she  could 
patronize  and  encourage,  and  feed  with  all  the 
triumphs  of  her  cookery.  To  have  helped  to 
make  a  minister  would  have  given  a  halo  to  all 
her  years,  and  she  resented  Mr.  Stokes'  weakness 


292       THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

in  declining  to  let  her  have  this  great  privilege. 
But  her  own  experience  in  the  last  few  days  had 
made  her  feel  that  there  might  really  be  conscien- 
tious scruples  which  could  add  new  burdens  to 
life.  And  the  powerlessness  of  Mr.  Stokes  to 
help  her  solve  her  problem  added  to  her  resent- 
ment. She  understood,  to  a  limited  degree,  his 
hesitation  to  accept  the  Baptist  religious  opinions; 
and  yet  shefelt  irritated  against  him  because,  with 
all  his  theological  learning,  he  could  not  help  her. 
Her  duty  was  not  plain.  She  did  not  want  to  go 
to  New  York.  She  admired  the  Judge,  and  she 
had  a  certain  regard  for  Eleanor;  but  Redwood 
was  her  home,  her  paradise;  and  her  feelings  for 
the  Judge  and  his  daughter  were  slight  compared 
to  the  dread  she  had  of  uprooting  herself  from 
Eedwood. 

If  her  conscience  were  not  in  the  way,  Belinda 
would  joyfully  have  done  her  best  for  the 
Redwoods,  and  stayed  at  home,  after  their  depart- 
ure, with  a  joyful  heart.  But  an  awful  fear 
oppressed  her;  and,  as  the  minister  had  gone  home 
before  Mr.  Stokes  could  buttonhole  him,  she 
walked  through  the  streets  with  that  young  man, 
trying  to  make  up  her  mind  to  unfold  it  to  him. 
She  felt  that  she  must  speak  or  die.  In  all  her 
travail  of  soul,  however,  she  did  not  fail  to  scent 
with  tender  sentiment,  the  aroma  of  the  Sunday 
dinners,  which  came  from  various  houses  they 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      293 

passed.  A  primrose  by  the  river's  brim  had  no 
special  associations  for  Belinda;  a  wild  rose  from 
the  haunts  of  her  childhood  would  not  have  drawn 
a  tear  from  her  under  any  circumstances;  but  the 
sweetness  of  roast  beef,  with  the  accompanying 
vision  of  baked  potatoes,  brought  a  lump  into  her 
throat, — it  might  be  the  last  day  on  which  this 
dulcet  odor,  so  characteristic  of  a  well-ordered 
Sunday  at  Redwood,  would  greet  her  nostrils. 

"I  just  know  how  papists  feel  when  they  want 
to  confess  to  their  priests,"  she  said  almost 
viciously.  "I've  got  something  on  my  mind,  and 
I'd  like  to  get  rid  of  it;  but  I  don't  know  as  it 
would  do  any  good  to  tell  you,  seeing  that  you 
haven't  either  been  called  or  chosen." 

Mr.  Stokes  sighed.  "There's  a  great  deal  to 
be  said  on  the  Romanist  side,"  he  observed.  "In 
fact,  there's  a  great  deal  to  be  said  on  every  side, 
—that's  the  trouble." 

"Oh!  of  course,"  sneered  Belinda,  who  having 
discovered  that  her  idol  was  clay,  now  felt  a 
certain  pleasure  in  jumping  on  its  toes.  "You 
haven't  backbone  enough  to  take  the  Bible  and 
the  good  old  doctrine  just  as  it  is.  You  can't  be 
satisfied  unless  you  have  a  lot  of  pagans  in  heaven 
with  you.  For  my  part,  I  can  do  without  'em. 
But,  then,"  she  added,  with  sudden  humility, 
"I'm  only  a  woman;  I  don't  count." 

Mr.  Stokes  said  nothing.    They  walked  slowly 


294      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

under  the  elms  that  lined  the  streets,  past  the 
homelike  houses,  big  and  little.  Belinda's  grim- 
ness  was  accented  by  her  gloomy  state  of  mind, 
a  stately  black  bonnet  adorned  with  a  bunch  of 
large  green  grapes,  a  black  bombazine  gown,  and 
a  purple  parasol  which  she  carried  as  if  it  were  a 
sceptre.  Mr.  Stokes  seemed  more  limp  than 
usual;  he  looked  as  if  the  only  objects  on  earth 
of  interest  were  his  blue  necktie  and  the  hyacin- 
thine  curl  trained  upon  his  brow.  It  would  have 
been  unkind  to  form  such  a  conclusion,  however; 
for  Mr.  Stokes  was  really  engaged  in  trying  to 
feel  like  a  man  before  Belinda's  sneer. 

"I  suppose  I  may  as  well  tell  you,"  Belinda 
said,  disarmed  by  his  silence.  "I  am  not  needed 
at  home  just  now, — there's  a  cold  dinner;  and 
if  you  have  leisure  to  listen  to  a  story  of  crime, 
I'll  tell  it  to  you." 

"Crime!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Stokes,  in  consterna- 
tion. "Crime!" 

"Yes,  crime,"  said  Belinda,  with  a  groan.  "I'm 
doomed — I'm  a  child  of  hell — I'm  unregenerate. 
Excuse  me  a  minute — did  you  ever!  Them 
shiftless  Sewards  are  all  at  the  front  window, 
commenting  on  the  passers-by,  while  their  roast 
beef's  burning  to  a  crisp.  Don't  you  smell  it? 
I'll  go  and  ring  the  door-bell,  and  just  let  'em 
know." 

But  before  Belinda  could  interfere  to  save  this 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      295 

sinful  waste  of  good  meat,  the  Sewards  took  the 
alarm  themselves  and  disappeared  from  the 
window. 

"Such  dooless  people,"  commented  Belinda. 
"They're  worse  than  heathens.  As  I  was  say- 
ing," she  continued,  "I  know  you  can't  help  me, 
and  I  know  the  minister  can't  help  me;  but  I  must 
tell  somebody.  I  wouldn't  satisfy  him  by  letting 
him  know  my  private  feelings,  for  he'd  just  up 
and  tell  his  wife;  and  there  ain't  been  any  good 
feeling  between  me  and  the  minister's  wife  since 
I  laid  out  her  aunt  Matilda.  I  would  have  my 
way;  but  she's  an  upstart — the  Lord  forgive  me, 
here  I  am  backbiting  people  when  my  soul's  wad- 
ing in  the  waters  of  tribulation,  and  drinking  the 
wine  of  bitterness.  I  am  a  criminal." 

They  had  reached  the  bridge.  Mr.  Stokes  took 
off  his  hat  and  rearranged  the  semicircle  of  glossy 
hair  on  his  forehead.  The  cross  of  the  Catholic 
church  gleamed  not  far  from  them.  They  turned 
to  the  opposite  bank,  where  the  unfashionable 
people,  including  Mrs.  Desmond,  lived. 

"We're  all  criminals,  more  or  less,"  said  Mr. 
Stokes.  "No  doubt  there  are  men  whose  hands 
are  red  with  human  blood  less  guiltless  than  we 
who  sin  against  light.  Marcus  Aurelius  and 
Emerson — " 

"I  don't  care  for  the  opinions  of  any  heathen," 
interrupted  Belinda.  "I  want  to  say  what  I've 


296      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

got  to  say,  and  that's  all  about  it.  I  feel  that  I 
•must  go  with  Eleanor  Redwood  on  a  wild-goose 
chase  to  New  York,  because  I  have  wronged  her 
greatly." 

Belinda  assumed,  unconsciously,  real  dignity  as 
she  said  this;  she  spoke  with  conviction.  She 
stopped  a  moment  to  dig  up  a  weed  that  was 
making  its  way  through  the  soil  at  the  end  of  the 
bridge. 

"It's  one  of  them  nasty  Canada  thistles,"  she 
said.  "I  can  never  let  one  of  'em  be  whenever  I 
see  them,  they're  such  a  pest.  I  may  as  well  tell 
you  the  whole  thing  while  I  am  about  it.  You 
know  what  a  great  society  woman  Laury  Bayard 
is.  Well,  I  just  wanted  her  to  help  along  the 
mission  in  Africa  you  were  talking  about;  so  I 
thought  I'd  satisfy  her  longing  for  gossip  by 
giving  her  a  little  paper  I  happened  to  have,  with 
a  family  secret  in  it.  It  wasn't  much  of  a  secret, 
but  I  thought  it  would  be  a  great  find  for  her, 
because  she  is  always  mousing  to  find  out  things 
she  has  no  business  with;  and  so,  without  think- 
ing, I  gave  her  the  paper  because  I  thought  she 
knew  something  about  what  was  in  it.  I  was  full 
of  the  Africans  when  I  did  it,  and  I  knew  she 
could  help  the  mission  if  she  wanted  to, — but  it's 
all  turned  out  bad.  I've  put  this  and  that  to- 
gether since,  and  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  the 
Judge's  sickness,  and  all  the  troubles  that  have 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      297 

come  to  the  Redwoods,  are  due  to  that  act  of 
mine.  And  I've  got  to  make  up  for  it, — that's 
all." 

"How  could  any  secret  in  your  possession  have 
done  much  harm?"  asked  Mr.  Stokes.  "It's  all 
imagination,  Belinda." 

"You  shut  up,"  replied  Belinda,  fiercely.  "I 
know  better  than  that.  The  Judge  and  his  wife 
were  never  of  one  mind.  Some  say  they  had 
religious  differences.  She  was  an  awful  proud 
woman.  And  she  was  mad  because  Eleanor 
wasn't  a  boy,  and  couldn't  be  called  after  her 
family.  At  any  rate,  her  troubles  preyed  on  her 
mind;  she  was  crazy  by  fits  and  starts,  and  this 
paper  was  written  in  one  of  her  crazy  fits.  She 
got  it  into  her  head  that  the  Judge,  just  to  spite 
her,  had  sent  away  her  son  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Des- 
mond, and  put  a  little  girl  in  his  place.  These 
crazy  spells  did  not  last  long,  but  they  were  bad 
while  they  did  last.  It  was  always  kept  from 
Eleanor." 

"I  should  hope  so,"  said  Mr.  Stokes. 

"Oh!  yes,  you  should  hope  so,"  cried  Belinda, 
with  asperity.  "But  what's  the  good  of  your 
hoping?  You  ain't  a  Christian.  I  don't  want 
your  hopes:  I  just  want  you  to  listen." 

Mr.  Stokes  sighed  again.  Belinda  was  no  doubt 
right. 

"Laury  Bayard  ain't  safe.     She's  a  contriver. 


298      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

How  do  I  know  that  she  won't  up  and  tell  Elea- 
nor all  about  it  for  her  own  purpose?  And  that 
will  blight  Eleanor's  life,  as  no  doubt  it  has  blight- 
ed the  Judge's.  And,"  continued  Belinda,  with 
tears  in  her  eyes,  "I  ain't  in  the  blighting  business. 
I  only  blighted  one  life  before,  and  I  am  sure  the 
Lord  won't  hold  that  against  me;  and  that  was 
when  your  father,  Theo  Stokes,  wanted  to  marry 
me.  He  wasn't  my  style,  so  I  just  sent  him  about 
his  business.  But  he  wasn't  the  same  man  after 
that,  and  he  just  turned  around  in  despair  and 
married  your  mother, — poor  Theo!  That's  the 
reason  I've  always  taken  such  an  interest  in  you." 

Mr.  Stokes  looked  uneasy ;  he  knew  it  was  best 
to  be  silent. 

"I  know  I'm  unregenerate;  I  know  I'm  in 
danger  of  hell-fire,  and  I've  no  peace  night  or  day; 
but  I'd  walk  over  hot  iron  ploughshares  to  undo 
what  I've  done.  I  didn't  mean  to  be  wicked,  and 
I  didn't  think  it  would  do  much  harm  to  give  that 
note  to  Laury  Bayard.  But  I've  always  been 
taught  that  it's  just  as  big  a  sin  to  steal  a  pin  as 
to  steal  a  man's  money;  and  there's  no  spiritooal 
consolation  for  me  now.  I'm  looking  into  an  abyss, 
and  I've  got  to  stick  to  the  Judge  and  Eleanor 
though  I'd  rather  walk  on  ploughshares  thangoto 
New  York,  because  I  must  make  up  for  the  wrong 
I've  done.  I'm  done  for,"  added  Belinda,  with  a 
groan.  "There's  no  mercy  for  a  sinner  like  me — 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      299 

but  if  we're  to  get  any  dinner,  we'd  better  turn 
back,"  she  said,  with  great  suddenness. 

A  slight  figure,  clothed  in  black,  turned  the  cor- 
ner. Belinda  at  once  recognized  Mrs.  Desmond, 
who  carried  a  prayer-book  ornamented  with  a 
large  gilt  cross;  she  was  coming  from  High  Mass. 

Mrs.  Desmond's  rosy  color  had  faded  a  little; 
her  walk  was  not  so  elastic,  and  there  was  a  wist- 
ful look  in  her  eyes.  The  truth  was  that  the  light 
had  gone  out  of  her  life  when  her  son  left  her. 
Before  that,  she  needed  no  effort  to  get  through  the 
day;  since  that  she  gladly  welcomed  the  twi- 
light, for  it  meant  that  another  day  of  his  absence 
had  passed.  She  had  not  dreamed  what  it  would 
cost  her  to  part  with  him.  She  realized  that  her 
household  duties  derived  all  their  pleasure  from 
the  fact  that  he  was  the  object  of  them 

She  greeted  Mr.  Stokes  cordially;  he  reminded 
her  of  Patrick.  She  and  Belinda  exchanged  cool 
bows;  they  had  met  before.  Mrs.  Desmond  felt 
so  lonely  that  she  determined  to  offer  hospitality 
to  Belinda  for  the  sake  of  having  a  talk  with  Mr. 
Stokes  about  Patrick. 

"You  must  be  tired,"  she  said.  "It's  seldom 
you  come  on  this  side  of  the  river.  You'll  not 
mind  having  a  cup  of  tea  with  me,  I  hope?" 

Belinda  was  tired;  and,  besides,  there  might  be 
a  chance  of  getting  some  consolation  from  Mrs. 
Desmond  on  the  matter  which  lay  heavy  on  her 
mind. 


300      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"They've  cold  victuals  at  home  to-day,"  replied 
Belinda;  "and  Eleanor  Redwood  won't  need  me, 
— yes,  I'll  come." 

Mr.  Stokes  assented,  too;  and  in  a  few  moments 
the  three  were  seated  at  Mrs.  Desmond's  table. 

Mrs.  Desmond  welcomed  Mr.  Stokes  and 
Belinda  as  a  relief  from  the  loneliness  of  having 
nobody  to  wait  upon;  and  the  latter  gave  a 
helping  hand  in  the  arrangement  of  the  little 
repast,  which  had  some  of  the  special  Sunday 
touches  particularly  admired  by  Patrick. 

"He's  at  Eaglescliff,"  said  Mrs.  Desmond.  "I 
expected  him  here  to-day,  but  his  business  keeps 
him  even  on  Sunday." 

"So  near,"  said  Belinda.  "I  thought  he  was 
in  New  York." 

"He's  helping  a  lawyer  named  Fitzgerald  in 
the  affairs  of  the  Fly-Away  Mines,"  answered 
Mrs.  Desmond,  proudly.  "Patrick  is  smart." 

"Smart  enough  not  to  run  after  Eleanor  Red- 
wood, now  that  she's  poor,"  Belinda  said  to  her- 
self. "It's  too  bad  that  the  Mines  have  gone  to 
nothing,"  she  remarked,  aloud. 

"If  anybody  can  stop  the  mischief,  Patrick 
can,"  said  the  mother,  confidently.  "And  Mr. 
Fitzgerald  is  the  best  lawyer  in  New  York,  they 
say." 

"It  will  take  quite  a  mighty  good  lawyer  to 
make  anything  of  a  mine  after  the  rats  leave  it," 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      301 

ventured  Belinda,  grimly.  "I  say,  Mrs.  Des- 
mond, what  would  you  do  if  you  had  a  great  load 
on  your  mind?" 

It  was  Belinda's  way  to  go  directly  to  the  point. 
Mr.  Stokes  put  his  coffee-cup  down,  and  prepared 
to  listen.  Mrs.  Desmond  either  did  not  hear  or 
did  not  heed  the  abrupt  question;  she  was  thinking 
of  her  son. 

"The  Mines  are  all  right  again,  I  hear,"  said 
Mrs.  Desmond.  "They  will  bring  more  money 
than  ever, — that's  what  Patrick  said  in  his 
letter." 

"They  will!"  cried  Belinda.  "Well,  I'm  glad 
of  it.  If  that's  so  I  shall  not  have  to  go  and  be  a 
slave  of  duty  in  New  York ;  for  the  Judge  will  be 
rich  again.  But,  oh!  dear,"  she  added,  "I'm  just 
the  same  miserable  sinner.  I've  done  the  deed, 
and  I  don't  know  what  will  blot  it  out." 

Mr.  Stokes  did  not  speak,  although  Belinda 
directed  her  speech  toward  him. 

"And  I  want  to  know  now,  Mrs.  Desmond 
— meaning  no  offence  to  you  as  a  Romanist — 
what  you  would  really  do  if  you  felt  as  I  do." 

"My  heart  is  heavy  enough  sometimes.  I  shall 
never  be  the  same  so  long  as  that  boy  is  away." 

"It's  natural  enough  for  sons  to  go  out  in  the 
world,  and  the  Scriptures  are  not  against  it;  but  I 
want  to  know  what  you  Romanists  do  when 
you've  got  a  crime  on  your  mind  and  need  to  get 
rid  of  it." 


302      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Mrs.  Desmond  looked  startled.  "We  go  to 
confession,  of  course,  and  get  absolution;  and  if 
we  are  sorry  from  our  heart — " 

"Oh!  I'm  sorry  enough,"  interrupted  Belinda. 
"If  it  were  only  down  in  the  Bible,  I'd  go  myself, 
— though  it  sounds  awfully  un-American." 

"It  is  in  the  Bible,"  said  Mrs.  Desmond;  "and 
you  ought  to  know  it,  Belinda.  'Whose  sins  you 
shall  forgive — '  " 

"What  do  you  say  to  that,  Mr.  Stokes?  Do 
you  call  that  Scriptural?"  demanded  Belinda, 

"I  have  no  opinion,"  answered  Mr.  Stokes.  "I 
can't  have  until  somebody  shows  me  what  the 
Scriptures  mean;  so  don't  ask  me." 

"Mr.  Stokes,"  said  Belinda,  solemnly,  "I  don't 
want  to  hurt  your  feelings,  but  I'm  convinced  that 
you're  a  weak-minded  creature.  I  ?.m  determined 
to  have  spiritooal  consolation;  and  I'll  go  to  a 
Komanist  priest,  even  if  he  is  Irish.  There  now !" 

Mrs.  Desmond  was  discreet  enough  not  to  ask 
questions;  she  understood  that  under  Belinda's 
grimness  there  were  unrest  and  fear.  She  said  a 
quiet  prayer  for  her. 

After  dinner  was  over,  Mr.  Stokes  took  his  leave 
very  gladly,  and  Belinda  drifted  to  the  congenial 
subject  of  the  late  Mrs.  Redwood's  state  of  mind. 

"Some  say  it  was  religion,"  Belinda  began,  rock- 
ing herself  in  the  big  chair. 

"The  poor  woman  gave  hers  up,  and  it  preyed 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      303 

on  her  mind.  The  Judge  was  a  little  hard  at  times 
and  she  had  one  or  two  really  mad  fits." 

"Pshaw!"  said  Belinda,  "she  was  no  more  an 
insane  woman  than  you  or  I.  It  was  the  neural- 
gia that  did  it;  and  Dr.  Talbot  said  that  if  she 
could  get  rid  of  her  neuralgia  and  have  her  mind 
calm,  she'd  never  have  a  fit.  There  was  no  insan- 
ity in  the  Waldrons, — I  am  sure  of  that.  Mrs. 
Redwood  just  had  her  queerness.  I'll  be  queer 
myself  if  I  don't  get  spiritooal  consolation  pretty 
soon." 

Mrs.  Desmond  made  her  give  her  impressions 
over  again  with  some  satisfaction.  It  was  a  com- 
fort— which  she  resolved,  however,  to  keep  to  her- 
self— to  know  that  Eleanor  Redwood  was  not 
likely,  by  inheritance,  to  become  a  raving  maniac. 

When  Belinda  reached  home  she  found  that 
Eleanor  was  in  better  spirits  than  usual.  She  was 
seated  on  the  porch,  in  one  of  those  soft  white 
dresses  she  preferred.  She  wore  some  early  roses 
at  her  belt,  and  Belinda  was  cheered  up  by  this; 
for  Eleanor  had  not  worn  flowers  since  herfather's 
illness. 

"O,  Belinda!"  Eleanor  exclaimed,  as  she  as- 
cended the  steps,  "I  have  good  news!  Papa  has 
said  a  few  words,  and  he  seems  to  hear  remarkably 
well  to-day." 

"Thank  the  Lord,"  said  Belinda,  with  fervor. 
"I've  good  news,  too.  If  what  I've  heard  is  oor- 


304      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

reet,  you're  rich  again.  The  Fly- Away  Mines  are 
worth  their  weight  in  gold." 

"I  am  glad,"  replied  Eleanor,  smiling  a  little; 
"but  papa  and  I  can  get  on  without  them.  Mr. 
Desmond  has  his  own  again;  I  gave  the  shares  to 
him." 

Belinda  dropped  her  parasol.    "You  did!" 

"I  found  out  they  were  his,  and  I  gave  them 
up." 

"You  found  out!  Oh!  I  wish  I  had  torn  Laury 
Bayard's  eyes  out  before  I  gave  her  that  note," 
stammered  Belinda,  becoming  as  purple  as  her 
parasol.  "I  must  have  spiritooal  consolation,  or 
I'll  choke.  Oh!  never  mind  me,"  she  continued, 
as  Eleanor  rose,  with  eyes  full  of  wonder.  "But 
I  want  to  tell  you  that  this  Patrick  Desmond  has 
no  more  right  to  those  shares  than  the  man  in  the 
moon.  And  I  want  to  say,  besides,  that  the  only 
way  to  get  'em  back  again  is  to  marry  him,  though 
he  ain't  no  kind  of  a  match  for  you." 

Eleanor  made  a  proud  gesture  toward  Belinda, 
and  said  coldly:  "Go  into  the  house." 

Belinda,  in  a  whirlwind  of  indignation,  dis- 
appeared; the  next  moment  she  made  an  attack 
on  the  pans  in  the  kitchen  which  startled  the  Sun- 
day atmosphere. 

Eleanor,  hoping  that  her  father  would  sleep 
through  this  dreadful  racket,  remained  on  the 
porch,  and  resolved  to  discover  what  Belinda 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      305 

meant.  And  when  Belinda  had  cooled  a  little 
they  talked  and  cried  late  into  the  night.  After 
that  Eleanor  prayed  that  she  might  be  shown  the 
way  out ;  and  she  prayed,  too,  that  it  might  not  be 
wrong  to  pray  for  her  mother. 


306      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 


XXIV. 

For  as  much  as  each  one  is  in  Thy  eyes,  so  much  is  he,  and 
no    more,   saith   the    humble   St.    Francis.— "Following   of   Christ." 

ELEANOE  continued  her  preparations  for  leav- 
ing Redwood,  but  with  a  decrease  of  elation.  She 
was  young  enough  and  inexperienced  enough  to 
believe  that  any  change  must  be  for  the  better; 
at  the  same  time  she  enjoyed  a  certain  feeling  of 
heroism  in  facing  the  world.  But  even  the  evi- 
dent improvement  in  her  father's  condition  could 
not  soothe  the  effect  of  the  doubts  raised  by  Be- 
linda's words.  Had  she  done  wrong  to  surrender 
to  Patrick  Desmond  the  shares  of  stock  in  the 
Fly-Away  Mines?  Had  it  been  a  desire  to  be 
just  that  prompted  her,  or  only  a  certain  pride  in 
showing  that  she  was  just? 

On  Monday  Belinda  repentantly  told  Eleanor 
the  story  of  the  note  she  had  found,  and  of  her 
misuse  of  it.  Eleanor  had  no  words  of  reproach 
for  Belinda.  The  only  thought  that  absorbed  her 
mind  was  the  question,  "Have  I  done  right?" 
Belinda  indignantly  said,  "No";  and,  accus- 
tomed as  she  was  to  speak  out  plainly,  went  on: 
"Of  course  the  money's  gone,  and  there's  no  help 
for  it.  And  I  must  say,  Eleanor  Redwood,  that 
if  I've  been  a  criminal,  you've  been  a  fool." 

Eleanor  did  not  answer  to  this.    Belinda's  po- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      307 

sition  in  the  family  and  in  Redwood  gave  her  privi- 
leges even  beyond  those  large  ones  taken  by  the 
ordinary  domestic  assistants. 

"Mr.  Desmond  will  keep  nothing  that  does  not 
belong  to  him,"  Eleanor  remarked.  "Suppose 
we  change  the  subject?" 

"I'd  bring  a  suit  at  law  for  the  money.  Money 
is  money,  and  business  is  business." 

"Oh!  how  can  you  talk  that  way,  Belinda. 
How  can  you!  My  father  would  rather  die  in  an 
almshouse  than  drag  his  private  affairs  into  court." 

"He  would,  would  he?"  said  Belinda,  with  a 
sneer.  "Then  he  ain't  like  most  of  us.  If  you've 
got  any  gumption,  Eleanor  Kedwood,  you'll  lay 
your  pipes  so  that  you  can  marry  this  Desmond 
man.  He  is  a  papist  and  Irish,  but  money  is — 

Eleanor,  her  face  crimson,  had  left  her.  Be- 
linda shrugged  her  shoulder,  and  muttered  to  her- 
self: "I  guess  I've  done  more  damage.  As  I'm 
doomed  anyhow,  it  won't  make  much  difference." 

After  this  Eleanor  was  unusually  quiet.  She 
went  about  her  duties  the  same  as  before,  but  said 
little;  she  saw  no  visitors.  Mrs.  Howard  Sykes, 
who  sent  flowers  and  fruit  every  day,  made  her 
way  to  Eleanor's  room,  and  lectured  her  with  a 
mixture  of  kindness  and  vulgarity.  The  Judge 
could  never  afterwards  complain  that  the  people 
of  Redwood  had  deserted  him  in  his  poverty. 

Dr.  Talbot  had  said  that  the  Judge  was  able  to 


308      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

travel.  There  was  a  large  group  of  old  friends  at 
the  station;  among  them  was  Mrs.  Bayard,  who 
began  to  cultivate  a  new  affection  for  Eleanor,  now 
that  she  was  down  in  the  world.  As  the  train 
moved  from  the  station,  Eleanor  caught  sight  of 
Mrs.  Desmond  and  kissed  her  hand  to  her. 

Belinda  stood  on  the  platform  in  a  tragic  atti- 
tude; and  she  felt  tragical.  To  her  the  leaving 
Redwood  was  a  terrible  step  into  the  unknown; 
but  the  Puritan  instinct  in  her,  inherited  and  cul- 
tivated— for  Belinda's  "forebears"  had  been  New 
England  Congregationalists, — made  herwillingto 
flay  herself  rather  than  not  suffer  for  the  wrong 
she  had  done.  Belinda  felt  that  henceforth  there 
could  be  no  joy  for  her  in  this  world.  Her  spirit- 
ual child,  Mr.  Stokes,  had  failed  her,  and  now  she 
was  an  exile  for  in  justice' sake.  There  was  no  com- 
pensation in  this  life  or  the  next  for  her.  Her 
idea  of  God  was  that  of  a  being  waiting  anxiously 
to  cast  her  into  perdition.  She  had  given  this 
creature  of  her  imagination — a  creature  resulting 
from  an  ignorant  reading  of  the  Old  Testament— 
his  chance,  and  she  was  sure  that  he  had  taken  it. 
She  was  not  going  to  complain ;  but  nevertheless 
she  was  determined  to  do  her  duty  to  the  bitter 
end.  But  this  duty  would  deprive  her  of  all  the 
little  ameliorations  of  her  lot.  If  Mrs.  Howard 
Sykes' preserved  pineapple — put  up  by  that  odious 
female  in  opposition  to  Belinda's  own  receipt — 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      309 

turned  out  bad,  she  could  never  know  it  now; 
and  who  would  tell  her  every  detail  of  the  funeral 
of  Sara  Jane  Smalltweed,  who  had  just  died? 

Judge  Redwood  seemed  to  grow  brighter  for 
the  change  of  scene;  he  spoke  several  times  in  a 
whisper,  and  delighted  Eleanor  by  calling  atten- 
tion to  the  various  objects  they  passed.  A  small 
house  in  the  middle  of  a  wheat  field,  with  a  bright 
red  barn  behind  it,  made  him  smile, — the  barn 
towering  in  size,  and  its  striking  color  making  the 
house  seem  insignificant.  His  pleasure  in  the  open 
country  awakened  in  his  daughter's  mind  some 
doubts  as  to  his  feelings  when  he  should  see  the 
little  dwelling-place  she  had,  with  Mrs.  Fitzgerald's 
help,  found  for  him.  Mary  Fitzgerald  had  been 
kinder  than  she  admitted  at  the  dinner  party,  and 
had  piloted  Eleanor  to  "a  jewel  of  a  flat,"  accord- 
ing to  the  New  York  point  of  view.  The  New 
York  point  of  view  was  not  Belinda's,  and  she  be- 
gan to  fear  her  father  would  have  no  sympathy 
with  it. 

The  railroad  journey  was  uneventful,  and  Be- 
linda's impressions  of  New  York  were  mercifully 
softened  by  darkness.  If  Mary  Fitzgerald  had 
not  saved  Eleanor  from  the  horrors  of  house- 
hunting, she  would  probably  have  gone  back  to 
Redwood  in  despair.  It  was  bad  enough  to  behold 
a  chaos  of  unsettled  furniture  in  the  six  small 
rooms  of  the  flat,  only  one  of  which  was  in  order. 


310      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

This  was  the  one  intended  for  the  Judge,  and  it 
had  been  arranged  by  Mary.  A  very  small  portion 
of  the  furniture  from  the  Kedwood  house  could  be 
got  into  the  flat,  which  was  fortunately  a  first 
floor. 

Belinda's  first  thought  on  entering  the  house 
was  of  the  kitchen.  She  declared  she  couldn't 
work  in  such  a  place,  and  wept.  "You  couldn't 
swing  a  cat  in  it,"  she  said,  as  if  one  of  the  chief 
uses  of  kitchens  was  for  the  swinging  of  cats. 
The  door-opener — an  arrangement  by  which  she 
could  open  the  door  without  leaving  the  kitchen 
— gave  her  some  consolation;  but  she  went  to  bed 
much  depressed.  She  was  willing  to  bear  her 
burden;  but  what  a  punishment  had  fallen  upon 
her.  She  had  never  dreamed  of  being  obliged  to 
live  in  "a  hole  in  the  wall." 

Mary  Fitzgerald,  kindly  as  usual,  came  the  next 
day  to  help  to  set  things  to  rights.  The  Judge 
took  a  fancy  to  her;  she  was  so  gentle, so  gracious, 
so  like  one  who  knew  from  experience  what  sor- 
row was.  Belinda,  at  first  so  sullen  and  silent, 
relaxed  her  grimness  a  little,  and  even  listened  to 
Mary's  apologies  for  the  flat. 

"It's  nothing  but  living  in  rooms,"  Belinda 
said. 

"But,  you  know,  half  New  York  lives  in 
rooms,"  answered  Mary.  "A  flat  has  advantages. 
What  would  you  do  with  a  big  New  York  house?" 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      311 

"I  don't  know,  and  I  don't  want  to  know," 
snapped  Belinda.  "But  I  do  know  that  if  them 
folks  upstairs  don't  stop  creaking  the  ropes  of 
that  dumb-waiter  at  all  hours  in  the  day,  they'll 
get  a  piece  of  my  mind." 

Mary  did  not  reply  to  this  outburst.  Belinda 
seemed  to  be  a  new  and  strange  type,  but  she 
understood  Eleanor  at  once.  She  admired  her 
frankness,  her  directness,  even  the  quixotic  ideas 
that  flashed  out  unconsciously  in  her  talk.  Mary 
never  distrusted  her  own  instinct  about 
strangers;  she  never  feared  and  she  was  never 
deceived.  Her  chance  meeting  with  Eleanor  had 
interested  her. 

The  Judge  slept  much  after  his  railway  jour- 
ney; and  Belinda,  seated  by  the  kitchen  window, 
spent  most  of  her  time  in  looking  out  on  the  side 
street.  Her  observations  only  convinced  her 
more  and  more,  that  New  York  was  Babylonian 
and  accursed. 

When  the  flat  was  put  in  order — Mary  gave  a 
great  deal  of  time  to  it,  as  Arthur  had  not  yet  re- 
turned from  Eaglescliff, — the  young  women  had 
a  long  talk.  It  was  in  the  time  of  twilight.  The 
little  parlor  had  been  made  bright  with  the  pretti- 
est spoil  from  the  Redwood  house.  Two  of 
Eleanor's  panels  hung  above  the  fireplace.  There 
was  a  slight  chill  in  the  air,  not  enough  to  justify 
a  fire ;  but  Mary  had  made  one  in  the  grate,  as  an 


312      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

aid  to  cheerfulness.  The  wood  cracked  merrily, 
flashing  on  the  brass  tea-kettle  and  tiny  cups  on 
the  table;  a  vague  perfume  came  from  a  few  roses 
Mary  had  brought,  and  Eleanor  sank  into  her 
father's  big  chair,  with  a  feeling  of  contentment 
in  the  presence  of  a  friend.  The  Judge  was  rest- 
ing, in  a  succession  of  dozes,  in  the  next  room.  Be- 
linda had  received  permission  to  go  to  the  won- 
drous Broadway  with  the  maid  above,  with  whom 
she  had  formed  a  transient  friendship.  This  left 
the  place  clear  for  a  comfortable  talk, — for  con- 
fidences are  not  confidences  in  a  flat,  if  the  acous- 
tic quality  is  at  all  good. 

"And  now  you  must  tell  me  your  plans,"  Mary 
said,  giving  Eleanor  a  cup  of  tea. 

"Indeed  I  shall,  with  pleasure,"  returned  Elea- 
nor. "It  is  so  lovely  to  have  somebody  to  talk 
freely  to,  and  you  seem  like  somebody  I  have  been 
looking  for.  I  have  always  wished  for  a  brother, 
— it  seems  to  me  I  miss  the  brother  I  might  have 
had  less  when  I  am  with  you." 

Mary's  smile  faded.  "Brothers  are  sometimes 
a  great  care,"  she  said.  "Ah!  my  dear,  God 
gives  us  what  is  best.  We  are  just  what  we  are 
in  His  eyes,  and  no  more.  It  is  foolish  to  imagine 
that  He  will  give  earthly  happiness — I  mean  the 
things  that  seem  to  make  earthly  happiness — 
because  we  love  Him.  His  kingdom  is  not  of  this 
world,  and  we  cannot  expect  ours  to  be." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      313 

Eleanor  opened  her  eyes;  she  looked  on  Mary 
as  a  happy  woman.  "Why,  He  has  given  you 
happiness!"  she  exclaimed, — "that  is,  in  thinking 
much  about  you  since  I  have  met  you,  it  seems  to 
me  that  He  has." 

"He  has  given  me  my  dear  husband — for  a 
time;  but  He  has  taken  my  child,  and — "  Mary 
paused;  she  could  not  speak  of  Miles.  "I  once 
thought,"  she  added,  "that  if  we  tried  to  love 
God,  He  would  make  earth  a  path  of  roses.  But, 
my  dear,  it  is  a  great  mistake;  we  must  cover 
many  a  sharp  thorn  with  the  roses  of  patience 
and  resignation." 

"I  like  to  hear  your  words,"  said  Eleanor, 
eagerly.  "I  have  always  longed  to  get  nearer  to 
God.  I  am  afraid  I  never  understood  what  relig- 
ion meant  at  Kedwood.  I  have  found  myself 
stupid  about  many  things.  But  I  never  found 
satisfaction  in  sermons  and  hymns  that  expressed 
merely  a  longing  for  a  God  who  seemed  so  far  off. 
I  often  think  that  I  should  not  have  been  so 
proud — so  proud  of  the  Waldron  ancestry,  I 
mean, — so  interested  in  the  petty  gaieties  at 
home,  if  I  could  have  been  nearer  to  God." 

"I  am  sure  you  were  never  very  frivolous," 
said  Mary,  looking  into  the  young  girl's  clear, 
earnest  eyes,  and  pressing  her  hand.  "But  it 
seems  you  want  me  to  talk.  I  thought  you  were 
to  tell  me  about  your  plans." 


314      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"So  I  shall,  and  yet  I  think  the  question  of 
religion  is  more  important  to  me  than  my  plans. 
I  never  knew  any  Catholic  well — that  is,  any 
Catholic  who  could  explain  things  to  me,  and 
who  acted  as  if  he  believed  in  his  religion— ex- 
cept Mr.  Desmond." 

"I  have  met  him."  Mary,  who  had  a  woman's 
fondness  for  a  bit  of  romance,  scanned  Eleanor's 
face  closely. 

"I  was  much  attracted  by  him,  exceedingly  in- 
terested in  him,"  Eleanor  went  on,  without  a 
blush  or  a  tremor  in  her  voice.  "I  had  heard  of 
him  (though  he  wasn't  in  our  social  circle),  and 
of  his  devotion  to  his  mother,  and  his  manliness. 
When  I  met  him  I  liked  him,  and  I  wanted  to 
know  what  made  him  so  much  better  than  other 
men.  You  know  how  girls  say  that  all  men  are 
bad.  Laura  Bayard — " 

"I  don't  know  what  girls  say  about  men,"  in- 
terrupted her  companion;  "for  I  have  never 
known  any  girl  well  but  my  own  dear  Esther." 

"Oh!  7  don't  think  so,"  exclaimed  Eleanor, 
anxious  that  Mary,  who  had  a  husband,  might  not 
think  that  she  intended  to  brand  all  men.  "Of 
course  Laura  Bayard,  an  old  friend  of  mine,  was 
prejudiced.  But  there  are  some  men  who  are  not 
nice,  and  one  knows  them  by  instinct;  don't  you 
think  so?  Mr.  Desmond  isn't  one  of  these, 
though  I  am  sure  he  is  too  fond  of  money:  he 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      315 

would  do  any  honest  thing  in  the  world  to  be  rich. 
I  know  that — and  he  is  rich."  Her  countenance 
fell;  she  remembered  suddenly  how  he  had 
become  rich.  Then  she  rushed  into  the  episode 
of  the  mine  shares. 

Mary  listened  attentively.  "Do  you  really 
think  you  had  a  right  to  do  that?"  she  asked, 
gravely. 

"Of  course,"  said  the  young  girl,  half-offended. 
"The  shares  were  mine,  to  do  as  I  pleased  with." 

Mary  shook  her  head  and  was  silent  for  a 
moment.  "Whom  did  you  consult?"  she  asked, 
after  Eleanor  had  watched  her,  anxiety  in  her 
eyes. 

"Nobody.  I  know  what  a  business  man  would 
have  said — 'Hold  on  to  them;  and  if  they  are 
worth  anything,  the  real  owner  will  make  you 
give  them  up/  I  did  not  want  to  be  made,  if  the 
shares  ever  became  valuable.  I  wanted  to  show 
Mr.  Desmond  that  the  moment  I  knew  that  my 
father  had  unconsciously  wronged  him,  I  was 
willing  to  make  amends.  No  business  man  could 
have  settled  the  matter  for  me:  I  had  to  settle  it 
for  myself.  It  was  a  question  of  conscience, — a 
moral  question.  I  stood  alone  before  God." 

"And  you  acted  on  an  impulse?" 

Eleanor  flushed.  "I  thought  it  was  a  right 
impulse." 

Mary  set  down  her  teacup  and  laid  her  hand  on 


316      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Eleanor's  shoulder.     "Do  you  want  plain  talk, 
dear?" 

"Yes,  I  do,"  answered  Eleanor,  with  tears  in 
her  eyes.  "That  is,  I  am  anxious  to  want  it. 
You  don't  know  how  unhappy  I  am — and  yet  I 
am  glad,  too.  I  have  given  up  what  might  have 
made  my  father  safe  from  want,  in  case  I  should 
die;  while  I  live  I  am  not  afraid,"  she  added,  her 
eyes  sparkling.  "I  have  given  it  away;  and  my 
father,  when  he  recovers,  may  look  on  me  as 
having  made  him  poor,  as  having  dragged  him 
down.  So  you  see  his  recovery  has  a  certain 
bitterness  in  its  joy — it  is  great,  great  joy.  Sup- 
pose my  father  should  insist  on  my  telling  Mr. 
Desmond  all  the  circumstances:  of  my  dear 
mother's  fits  of — aberration?  O,  Mrs.  Fitzgerald! 
I  should  rather  be  poor  all  my  life  than  have  to 
tell  anybody  but  you — for  you  seem  near  to  me, 
and  God  knows  I  need  a  friend, — the  story  of 
my  poor  mother's  troubled  life,  as  Belinda  has 
hinted  it  to  me." 

"Had  you  no  minister  to  advise  you  in  your 
doubt?" 

"I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing!"  exclaimed 
Eleanor.  "It  was  a  question  of  conscience;  I  did 
not  need  that  any  man  should  come  between  God 
and  me." 

"It  is  hard  to  find  out  the  right  all  by  one's  self 
sometimes,"  said  Mary.  "And  impulse  is  a  bad 
guide  where  others  are  concerned." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     317 

"What  would  you  have  done?  Surely,  in  a 
case  of  conscience,  you  would  let  nobody  stand 
between  God  and  you." 

"Not  in  the  sense  in  which  you  use  the  phrase, 
— no,  but  I  should  ask  the  advice  of  one  con- 
secrated to  mediate  between  God  and  me.  I 
should  have  gone  to  a  priest,  educated  to  solve 
moral  questions  and  to  look  on  them  conserva- 
tively. He  would  have  helped  me." 

"And  you  would  have  trusted  him?" 

"Trusted  him!  Why  not?  The  laws  which 
govern  his  decision  were  made,  not  by  himself, 
but  by  great  doctors  of  moral  law;  and  he  is  wise 
in  them." 

Eleanor  was  silent.  "How  safe  you  must  feel 
in  your  Church.  O,  Mrs.  Fitzgerald!  I  long  to  be 
guided — to  be  nearer  God!" 

Mary  kissed  Eleanor's  forehead.  "We  will 
talk  of  that.  But  first  tell  me  how  you  intend  to 
earn  a  living." 

Eleanor  did  not  answer;  she  heard  the  rustle  of 
a  paper  in  her  father's  room;  she  parted  the 
curtains  and  looked  in,  on  tiptoe.  She  returned 
to  Mary,  radiant.  "He  is  reading! — he  is  read- 
ing!" she  exclaimed.  "I  left  him  the  evening 
paper,  and  he  is  reading.  Oh!  thank  God." 

After  a  time  she  answered  Mary's  question. 
She  lit  all  the  gas  burners  and  drew  Mary  to  the 
chimney-piece.  "See!"  she  said,  proudly  dis- 


318      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

playing  the  panels.  "I  am  sure  that  if  I  do 
better  than  that  I  shall  be  an  artist.  Everybody 
has  praised  my  work." 

Mary  looked  in  dismay  at  the  garlands  of  pop- 
pies and  the  bunches  of  other  flowers, — well- 
drawn,  well-colored,  but  entirely  commonplace. 

"You  don't  like  them?"  asked  the  young  girl, 
anxiously. 

Mary  turned  away.  Should  she  tell  the  truth 
or  be  merely  polite?  Her  duty  seemed  plain;  it 
would  be  cruel  to  deceive  this  candid  young 
creature,  who  was  so  much  of  a  child  and  yet  so 
true  a  woman.  "They  are  pretty,  but  a  thousand 
girls  here  in  New  York  make  better  things  of  the 
kind.  You  cannot — " 

"I  know,  I  understand;  and  you  are  a  judge," 
said  Eleanor,  growing  white  with  pain.  "People 
have  meant  to  be  kind — " 

"Eleanor!"  said  a  weak  voice  from  the  Judge's 
room.  "Come  here,  Eleanor!  We  are  safe 
again.  This  paper  quotes  the  Fly- Away  Mines  at 
par.  I  shall  get  well  again  now." 

Eleanor  put  her  arms  around  Mary's  neck;  her 
hands  grew  cold.  "Oh,  how  shall  I  tell  him?" 
she  whispered, — "how  shall  I  tell  him?" 

And  Mary,  looking  at  her  eyes,  tearless  and 
agonized,  obeyed  an  impulse  which  had  become  a 
habit.  "Go  to  him,  my  dear;  and  when  the  time 
comes,  I  will  tell  him." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      319 


XXV. 


Man's  heart  is  either  of  feathers   or  of  lead. 

— Turkish  Proverb. 


THERE  was  much  reason  for  Eleanor's  agitation. 
It  was  a  terrible  thing  for  her  to  discover  that  she 
had  risked  her  father's  future  because  of  a  false 
idea  of  her  own,  and  because  of  a  too  exalted  be- 
lief of  her  own  powers.  For  the  moment  the  most 
cruel  part  of  it  all  was  that,in  order  to  explain  the 
condition  of  things  to  her  father,  she  would  have 
to  admit  that  she  had  suspected  him  of  injustice 
to  Patrick  Desmond.  There  was  no  palliation  in 
the  knowledge  that  this  rash  judgment  of  hers 
had  been  founded  on  her  mother's  words,  uttered 
in  a  moment  of  hallucination.  Her  respect  for 
her  father  was  so  deep  that  it  seemed  like  a  physi- 
cal wound  to  her  heart  to  acknowledge  to  him  that 
for  a  long  time  she  had  doubted  his  probity,  or,  at 
best,  his  courage  to  do  right.  She  felt,  too,  a  great 
terror  of  touching  on  the  difficulties  between  her 
father  and  mother.  Any  allusion  to  them  might 
seem  like  aa  accusation.  And  Eleanor  knew  that 
her  father  was  weak,  depressed,  between  life  and 
death;  he  needed,  above  all,  an  atmosphere  of  love 
and  trust.  And  this  she  should  procure  for  him. 

The  humiliation  of  her  position  in  regard  to 
Desmond  struck  her.  In  a  fit  of  mock  heroism 


320      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

she  had  made  restitution  to  him  of  valueless 
shares;  these  shares  rising  in  value,  she  would 
be  obliged  perhaps,  in  justice  to  her  father,  to  ask 
for  them  again.  She  covered  her  face  with  her 
hands,  and  blushed  to  the  roots  of  her  hair,  as  she 
thought  of  the  mortification  of  this.  She  believed 
very  firmly  in  Desmond's  honesty.  Of  late  she 
had  learned  many  things  about  Catholic  prac- 
tices; he  must  be  honest,  she  said  to  herself,  or  he 
could  not  be  a  practical  Catholic.  Rut,  then,  he 
might  feel  obliged  to  defend  his  right  to  the  shares 
for  the  sake  of  his  mother.  He  would  have  to 
know  the  whole  wretched  story;  and  she,  after  a 
talk  with  her  father,  must  tell  it  to  him.  No,  she 
would  not  ask  Mary  Fitzgerald  to  bear  her  bur- 
dens; she  would  take  them  up  herself,  and  bear 
them  bravely.  This  was  her  resolution. 

The  physician  to  whose  care  Dr.  Talbot  had 
consigned  Judge  Redwood  looked  grave  when  he 
came  on  the  day  after  the  Judge's  burst  of  words. 
It  was  his  private  opinion  that  Dr.  Talbot  had 
carried  his  pet  practice  of  bleeding  too  far;  he 
himself  believed  that  the  old-fashioned  practice 
had  not  enough  value  in  it  to  warrant  its  revival ; 
and,  although  Dr.  Talbot  had  undoubtedly  saved 
the  Judge's  life,  the  stringent  regimen  had  left 
him  weak  in  body.  The  new  physician  sent  for  a 
trained  nurse,  and  recommended  quiet.  Even 
Eleanor  was  forbidden  to  enter  his  room. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      321 

On  learning  this,  the  young  girl  was  more 
unhappy  than  she  had  ever  been  in  her  life;  she 
hated  the  exclusion  from  her  father's  presence,  and 
she  feared  to  be  alone  with  him.  In  spite  of  her 
resolution  to  bear -her  own  burdens,  she  went  over 
to  Mary  Fitzgerald's  as  soon  as  she  could  in  de- 
cency make  a  call.  The  inner  light  of  Mary's  life 
shone  on  her  face;  it  shone  for  other  people;  it 
had  been  fed  and  kept  trimmed  before  the  altar 
of  "the  idol  of  Miles/'  as  Esther  occasionally 
named  the  object  of  her  sister's  devotion;  and, 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  object  of  the 
flame  had  been  unworthy,  the  fire  grew  purer  and 
purer  every  day. 

Eleanor  had  a  guilty  feeling  of  selfishness  as 
she  rang  the  Fitzgerald  bell.  She  knew  that  she 
was  about  to  cast  part  of  her  burden  on  Mary; 
but,  then,  did  not  Mary's  goodness  invite  it? 
And  was  she  not  a  Catholic  and  bound  to  bear 
other  people's  burdens?  "It  is  easy  for  Catholics 
to  be  good,"  Eleanor  said  mentally.  "They  have 
so  many  ways  of  getting  nearer  to  God,  while  we 
poor  Protestants  have  to  struggle  and  struggle, 
and  depend  on  ourselves." 

Eleanor  was  asked  up  to  Mary's  room  at  once. 
Mary  was  engaged  in  making  an  elaborate  frock 
for  little  Miley — all  bows  and  lace  and  color. 
Eleanor  admired  the  room.  There  was  a  lovely 
statue  of  Our  Lady  of  Victories,  sent  from  abroad 


35}2      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

by  Esther;  there  was  Esther's  own  picture,  with 
the  black  silk  frock  she  had  worn  at  Mr.  Bastien's 
concert;  and  there  was  Miles,  the  little  boy  in  a 
short  jacket.  This  was  heavily  framed  with  white 
velvet,  and  the  Brown  Scapulars  hung  above  it. 
There  were  a  hundred  little  souvenirs  that  Mary 
loved.  The  room  was  exquisitely  simple  in  its 
appointments,  but  there  were  flowers  everywhere. 

Mary  rose  and  extended  both  hands  to  her 
visitor.  She  noticed  Eleanor's  eye  resting  on 
the  work  in  her  hands. 

"This  is  a  gala  frock  for  my  little  nephew.  It's 
very  ornamental,  is  it  not?  But  the  little  boy's 
mother  loves  him  so,  that  nothing  is  too  fine." 

Eleanor  silently  commented  on  the  foolishness 
of  any  mother  who  would  put  a  small  child  into 
such  an  array.  She  began  to  be  happy  in  Mary's 
presence,  which  affected  her  as  a  genial  grate  fire 
affects  one  who  has  been  out  in  a  cold  wind. 

"Has  your  husband  come  home  yet?"  Eleanor 
asked, fearingthat  there  might  be  an  interruption. 

"No;  but  I  have  a  letter  from  him.  His  busi- 
ness is  more  complicated  than  he  expected." 

"I  am  afraid  I'm  glad,"  said  Eleanor,  smiling. 
"I  shall  be  able  to  talk  for  a  time  with  you.  Oh, 
I  want  your  advice  so  much!  Do  you  think  I 
might  become  a  Catholic?" 

Mary  started.  Her  face  brightened,  and  grad- 
ually became  grave.  "It  is  an  important  step.  _I 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     323 

hope  you  will  forgive  me  for  asking  a  most  im- 
pertinent question, — most  impertinent." 

"I  will  answer  any  question  you  ask, — I  will 
indeed!"  said  Eleanor,  rising  and  standing  before 
Mary.  "Oh!  don't  think  I  am  bigoted  or  preju- 
diced or  superstitious  about  your  Church,  as  Prot- 
estants sometimes  are.  I  know  that  your  religion 
makes  you  good." 

Mary  sighed.  "You  may  well  believe  that  if 
it  does  not  make  us  good  nothing  can.  But  my 
question  is  not  about  the  Inquisition,"  with  a 
little  smile,  "or  anything  of  that  kind.  Are  you 
drawn  to  the  Catholic  Church  simply  because 
somebody  who  wants  to  marry  you  expects  you 
to  be  a  Catholic?" 

Theyounggirl  looked  amazed,  and  then  laughed. 
"Nobody  wants  to  marry  me.  What  an  idea!" 

Mary,  who  had  watched  Desmond  at  the  dinner 
party,  was  somewhat  disconcerted.  It  had  been  her 
private  opinion  that  any  possible  difficulty  about 
the  mine  shares  would  be  settled  by  matrimony. 

"I  must  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Redwood — " 

"Call  me  Eleanor." 

"Well,  I  will, — but  it  requires  a  pure  motive 
to  help  us  to  enter  the  Church  of  God.  And  I 
have  seen  some  converts — I  have  always  feared 
that  any  words  of  mine — but,  my  dear,  Father 
Jackson  will  talk  to  you  about  it.  I  will  arrange 
an  interview." 


324      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Eleanor.  "I  may  say 
that  I  want  to  be  a  Catholic  because  I  want  to  be 
safe.  I  feel  that  I  must  get  nearer  God  or  die. 
And  of  late  I  have  thought  of  it  a  great  deal,  be- 
cause I  have  met  such  good  Catholics." 

"Mr.  Desmond?"  asked  Mary,  with  a  touch  of 
malice. 

"Yes — and  you." 

The  maid  came  up  with  a  card. 

Mary  rose.  "Let  us  go  downstairs,"  she  said. 
"It's  my  sister-in-law.  She  is  rather  formal  in 
some  ways,  and  she  does  not  like  to  be  received 
in  my  room." 

Nellie  was  seated  on  a  divan  in  the  large 
drawing-room,  darkened  and  uninviting,  as  most 
New  York  drawing-rooms  are  in  the  daytime. 
The  maid  opened  the  shutters,  and  the  soft  June 
sunlight  came  in.  Nellie  was  glad  to  meet  Miss 
Redwood.  She  had  taken  the  liberty  to  examine 
a  small  diary  which  Desmond,  filled  with  rustic 
trust  in  human  nature,  had  left  in  his  room. 
There  she  had  read  of  Eleanor  several  times. 
Nellie  thanked  her  stars  that  she  had  on  her  pur- 
ple velvet,  and  made  a  most  dramatic  lurch 
toward  Eleanor,  in  order  to  draw  out  the  full 
length  of  her  train.  "Gracious!"  she  said  to  her- 
self, "the  idea  of  his  liking  this  slip  of  a  girl  bet- 
ter than  the  Baroness,  after  all  the  attention  she 
paid  him." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      325 

Nellie  had  learned  some  things  which  had  not 
improved  her  appearance  or  conversation.  She 
had  put  large  patches  of  black  under  her  eye- 
lashes, and  pencilled  her  eyebrows — not  with  the 
firmest  hand;  besides,  she  had  acquired  several 
French  phrases  superficially,  without  having  had 
a  chance  to  corroborate  them.  She  saw  with  de- 
light this  chance  of  playing  the  lady  of  fashion 
with  this  provincial. 

"O,  my  dear!"  she  said,  "I'm  so  glad  to  meet 
you.  I  must  kiss  you  again.  A  young  friend  of 
mine — a  sort  of  dependent,  my  cousin  in  fact,  my 
husband's  secretary — has  often  spoken  of  you — " 

Mary  Fitzgerald  interfered  nervously,  with  an 
allusion  to  Miley's  new  frock. 

"Why  did  you  interrupt  me,"  whispered  Nel- 
lie. "I  was  just  going  to  say  that  he  considered 
her  his  intended." 

Mary  shuddered.  "Miss  Redwood  is  slightly 
acquainted  with  Mr.  Desmond,"  she  remarked. 

"Only  slightly?"  said  Nellie  archly.  "Oh!  I 
know  how  it  was  myself." 

Mary  was  sincerely  grateful  that  the  young  girl 
did  not  see  the  wink  which  Nellie  directed  at  her, 
— a  wink  being  Nellie's  social  telephone. 

"I  must  say,"  Nellie  continued,  "that  I'm  not 
pleased  with  Patrick  Desmond.  Though  Miles 
and  I  have  done  everything  for  him — set  him  up 
both  socially  arid  financiallv — he  has  left  us.  I 


326      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

hear,  by  the  way,  that  he  is  rich.  Of  course  he'll 
turn  on  us  now,  like  the  viper  on  horseback. 
We've  a  new  young  man  in  his  place,  who  can't 
be  independent  and  talk  about  conscientious 
scruples;  for  we  got  him  off  the  Island.  People 
off  the  Island  can't  have  consciences;  they's  got 
to  take  pot-luck,  like  the  rest  of  us." 

Eleanor  looked  at  Nellie,  observing  her  paint, 
her  overtrimmed  velvet  gown, and  hat  overloaded 
with  flowers;  and  thought  she  was  the  most 
odious  female  she  had  ever  met. 

"We  must  see  you  at  our  place,  dear,"  Nellie 
went  on,  while  Mary  bent  her  head  over  her  work. 
"My  husband  is  only  in  politics,  to  be  sure;  he's 
not  a  professional  man, like  Mr. Arthur  Fitzgerald 
— oh!  my,  no.  He  only  makes  his  bread  by  coin- 
ing the  sweat  of  his  brow  for  the  welfare  of  the 
Empire  State.  But  he  goes,  all  'the  same,  though 
he  is  only  a  statesman.  Perhaps  you  think  this  is 
sarcasm.  Oh!  no."  And  Nellie  giggled  toward 
her  sister-in-law.  "Goodness,  my  dear,  where  did 
you  come  from?" 

"From  Redwood." 

"Redwood?"  said  Nellie,  in  a  far-away  tone. 
"Iowa,  Ohio — somewhere  in  the  West,  I  suppose? 
You  must  let  me  do  your  hair  for  you;  it's  not 
chick  at  all.  If  you  want  to  look  smart  and 
rekerky,  you — " 

Mary  interrupted  once  more.  "How  is  Miles?" 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      327 

"Miles  is  sick.  A  bad  attack  of  nervous  depres- 
sion." 

"O  Nellie,  why  didn't  you  tell  me?"  asked 
Mary,  dropping  her  work.  "Is  it  serious?" 

"It's  always  serious,"  said  Nellie,  with  evident 
satisfaction.  "You  don't  know  when  a  man  with 
a  brain  like  that  is  going  to  go  off.  Never  marry 
a  successful  man,  Miss  Redwood.  You  can't  im- 
agine what  they  are;  they're  generous  to  a  fault. 
I  hadn't  been  married  five  months  when  Miley 
give  me  this  pair  of  diamond  earrings.  Giants, 
ain't  they?" 

Eleanor  admired  them;  she  rose  to  go,  but 
Mary  made  an  appealing  motion. 

"I  ought  to  see  Miles  at  once." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Nellie.  "I  can  take  care  of 
him.  And  I  must  say,though  it  is  in  the  presence 
of  a  stranger,  that  your  talk  about  religion  is  not 
agreeable  to  him.  A  man  of  the  world  can't  be 
hanging  about  a  church  all  the  time.  He  doesn't 
like  to  hear  about  confession  and  all  that.  You 
just  let  Miles  alone,  and  he'll  come  around  all 
right  one  of  these  days." 

"How  can  you  talk  in  that  way,  Nellie?"  asked 
Mary,  in  real  distress. 

"He's  no  worse  than  other  men,"  retorted  Nel- 
lie. "You  had  the  bringing  up  of  him,  and  I've 
had  to  undertake  the  job  after  you've  spoiled — " 
and  then,  remembering  Eleanor,  she  graciously 


328      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

said  good-by,  took  Miley's  little  frock,  which  she 
had  come  for,  and  sailed  out,  tinkling  various 
bangles  and  metal  ornaments. 

"You  will  pardon  me  for  keeping  you,"  Mary 
said  to  Eleanor.  "You  have  trusted  me  so  much 
that  I  do  not  hesitate  to  trust  you.  I  wanted  you 
to  stay,  that  I  might  have  a  chance  of  preventing 
you  from  misjudging  my  sister-in-law.  She  is 
not  as  she  seems.  She  has  a  good  heart  and  an 
honest  nature,  but  she  has  never  had  good  home 
influence  about  her.  Her  husband,  my  brother,  is 
a  busy  man, — one  of  the  truest  souls  in  the  world, 
groping  in  the  dark  somewhat  now.  Butyou  should 
have  seen  what  a  lovely  little  baby  and  what  a 
sweet  boy  he  was.  We  will  go  to  my  room  again — " 

The  doorbell  rang,  and  the  two  women  stood 
still,  instead  of  moving.  A  voice  and  a  quick  step 
sounded  in  the  hall,  and  Patrick  Desmond  entered. 

He  bowed — his  face  flushed  and  he  started  as 
he  saw  Eleanor. 

"Mr.  Fitzgerald  sent  me  for  a  paper  which  is 
in  the  right-hand  drawer  of  his  desk;  this  is  a 
copy  of  the  indorsement,"  he  said,  standing,  al- 
though Mrs.  Fitzgerald  asked  him  to  take  a  chair. 
"I  am  to  go  back  to-night,  and  I  am  entirely  at 
your  service." 

Mary  took  the  note.  "Excuse  me,"  she  said, 
"I  will  find  the  paper." 

She  went  out  of  the  room,  looking  on  this  op- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     329 

portunity  as  admirable  for  the  acceleration  of 
match-making.  She  said  to  herself  that  it  would 
be  strange  if,  after  this  interview,  Eleanor  did 
not  understand  her  own  mind. 

Eleanor  could  scarcely  restrain  herself  from 
grasping  Mary's  departing  gown  with  both  hands. 
Mr.  Desmond  was  handsomer  than  ever,  probably 
because  he  was  better  dressed;  she  felt  cheered 
by  his  presence,  but  she  would  have  given  much 
to  get  away  from  him  at  that  moment.  As  to 
him,  he  was  happy.  Of  all  persons  in  the  world, 
he  wanted  most  to  see  her,  and  to  see  her  without 
breaking  his  promise  to  his  mother. 

"I  have  come  from  Redwood,"  said  Desmond, 
taking  the  seat  nearest  him,  which  happened  to 
be  the  piano-stool. 

"Dear  old  Redwood!"  answered  Eleanor, 
softly. 

"And  I  have  important  news  for  you,  Miss  Red- 
wood. The  Fly-Away  is  going  up;  and  Dr.  Tal- 
bot,  whom  I  saw  at  Redwood,  has  told  me  all" 

Eleanor  looked  pained. 

"I  was  obliged  to  ask,  in  justice  to  myself  and 
to  you,"  he  said  apologetically.  "I  have  found 
that  I  have  not  the  slightest  right  to  the  shares. 
Your  father  never  wronged  me." 

Eleanor  turned  her  face  away.  What  could  she 
say  to  this? 

"Dr.Talbot,"  he  went  on, "behaved  with  great 


330      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

delicacy  and  kindness.  You  need  not  fear  that  he 
told  me  anything  which  I  ought  not  to  know.  He 
merely  explained  tomethe  natureof  your  mother's 
malady, brought  on  by  neuralgia;  and  he  said — 

"Never  mind!"  Eleanor  raised  her  hand;  she 
hated  to  hear  the  subject  of  her  mother's  malady 
alluded  to  even  by  a  man  she  regarded  with  re- 
spect. "Don't  say  any  more.  I  have  probably 
done  you  some  injury  by  my  rash  action  about 
the  shares.  You  will  forgive  me,  I  hope,  and  let 
me  make  any  pecuniary  amends — "  she  stopped, 
seeing  a  frown  on  Desmond's  brow.  "But  let  me 
say  frankly  that  had  you  been  less  honorable — 
had  you  concluded  to  keep  these  shares,  you 
might  have  done  so.  Nothing  on  earth  would 
have  forced  me  to  make  a  contest  in  court.  I 
might  have  known,  however,  that  you,  religious 
as  you  are — and  how  I  admire  your  religion! — 
would  have  been  as  anxious  to  return  the  shares 
as  I  was  to  give  them  to  you." 

"I  hardly  deserve  praise;  I  could  not  keep 
what  did  not  belong  to  me.  Thanks  to  my 
mother,  I  am  an  honest  man,"  Desmond  said, 
gravely. 

"I  know  that,"  answered  Eleanor,  with  a  slight 
bitterness  in  her  tone.  "I  have  seen  something  of 
life  in  Redwood, and  heard  men  talk;and  I  know 
of  no  business  man  there  who  would  have  given 
up  these  shares  without  a  struggle.  Honesty  in 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      331 

business  is  not  the  kind  of  honesty  you  have 
learned.  Honesty,  according  to  the  business  code, 
means  to  hold  all  you  have,  whether  it  is  your 
own  or  not,  until  the  law  takes  it  from  you." 

Eleanor's  eyes  flashed  and  her  cheeks  reddened. 
Desmond  thought  he  had  never  seen  anybody 
so  beautiful  ;and  the  knowledge  that  she  admired 
him  was  delightful.  How  easy  it  was,  under  the 
circumstances,  to  be  honest. 

"And,"  she  continued,  "grant  me  a  favor. 
Act  as  my  agent  in  the  management  of  the  stock 
until  my  father  recovers.  You  will,  will  you 
not?" 

Desmond  promised  with  effusion. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said,  with  a  grateful  smile. 

"And  now  I  will  tell  you  something  that  will 
please  you  and  your  mother.  I  am  thinking  of 
becoming  a  member  of  your  Church." 

He  stepped  forward  and  took  her  hand  in  his: 
she  did  not  withdraw  it  at  once,  but  looked  up  at 
him  with  the  frankness  of  a  child. 

"Yes;  I  will  be  a  Catholic,  if  God  wills  it." 

"Thank  God!"  said  Desmond,  fervently. 

"I  knew  it  would  please  you,"  she  replied, 
withdrawing  her  hand. 

At  this  moment  Mary  entered  with  the  paper. 
She  paused  on  the  threshold,  smiling  a  little,  and 
saying  to  herself  that,  after  all,  the  mining  stock 
was  not  likely  to  change  hands. 


332      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

When  Desmond  started  for  the  train  for  Eagles- 
cliff,  he  seemed  to  tread  on  air.  He  was  happy. 
What  could  he  not  dare  and  do  for  this  exquisite 
creature,  who  had  smiled  on  him  and  made  clear 
a  hope  that  had  been  vague  before?  He  blushed 
while  he  admitted  to  himself  that,  if  he  chose  to 
overcome  his  pride,  Eleanor  Redwood  might  be 
his  wife.  Somehow  or  other,  his  objection  to 
marrying  a  woman  with  Fly-Away  stock  at  par 
had  dwindled  in  an  hour.  He  had  never  before 
felt  how  really  sinful  pride  is. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      333 


XXVI. 

A  whole  heaven  is  contained  in   a  drop  of  dew;  a  whole  soul 
in    a  tear. — Abbe  Roux. 

ELEANOR  was  preoccupied  with  many  things 
during  the  first  days  of  her  life  in  the  flat.  It 
was  delightful  to  think  that  she  should  be  spared 
the  dreadful  necessity  of  telling  her  father  of  her 
quixotic  action  in  regard  to  the  mine  shares,  and 
to  feel  that  he  was  not  dependent  on  the  result  of 
her  art  work.  She  accepted  Mary  Fitzgerald's 
verdict  on  the  worthlessness  of  her  painting  with 
a  sigh,  but  she  did  not  revolt  against  it.  After  all, 
Mary  Fitzgerald  must  know  about  such  things. 
It  was  a  disappointment  to  her,  and  something  of 
a  humiliation.  And  after  Mary  had  carefully 
pointed  out  the  defects  in  the  unfortunate  panels, 
Eleanor  never  looked  at  them  without  a  shudder; 
for  it  was  on  those  trivial  efforts  she  had  proposed 
to  hang  her  father's  future.  Now,  through  Des- 
mond's honesty,  that  was  assured,  thank  God! 
And  if  health  would  only  come  again  to  that  dear 
father,  life  might  bring  any  trial  to  her.  She 
could  bear  it.  She  asked  herself,  too,  if  her 
father  should  be  brought  back  to  health,  whether 
she  would  be  satisfied  were  he  the  Judge  Redwood 
of  old — acute,  kindly,  doubting.  And  something 
within  her  answered  that  she  would  not.  She 


334      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK:  f)ESMONt* 

awoke  to  thetruth  that  she  could  not  be  happy  un- 
less he  ceased  to  doubt. 

During  these  days  Eleanor  had  little  to  do. 
Belinda  was  in  a  bad  humor  and  would  not  permit 
her  to  interfere  in  the  household  arrangements. 
The  trained  nurse  was  with  her  father,  and,  by 
the  doctor's  orders,  she  was  allowed  to  see  him 
only  at  short  intervals.  The  doctor  said  little 
about  his  patient's  condition.  Eleanor  hoped,  and 
so  far  she  was  not  told  to  fear.  Having  some 
time  on  her  hands,  she  made  timid  explorations 
into  the  whirl  of  New  York.  It  pleased  and  ter- 
rified her.  The  color  and  glitter  of  Broadway 
delighted  her  artistic  spirit;  the  motion  and  tu- 
mult shocked  her.  Surely,  she  said  to  herself,  there 
could  be  no  homes  in  such  a  place.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  the  crowd  in  Broadway  was  only  a 
great  procession  moving  onward  forever.  The 
little  children,  who  seemed  caught  in  this  perpet- 
ual movement,  filled  her  with  pity.  What  did 
they  know  of  fresh  woods  and  pastures  new, — of 
all  the  world  of  country  sights  and  sounds?  They 
seemed  to  her  like  flies  caught  in  the  big  web- 
wheel  of  a  relentless  spider,  and  turned  unceas- 
ingly around  and  around.  She  wished  she  could 
take  them  to  the  beautiful  orchard  behind  her 
father's  house,  near  the  river  bank  at  Redwood. 

A  great  deal  of  her  time  was  spent  in  the 
church,  to  which  she  had  found  her  way  on  the 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      335 

first  day  she  came  to  New  York.  She  did  not 
pray  much, — her  religious  training  had  given 
her  few  forms  of  prayer,  and  she  was  not  quick  at 
putting  prayers  into  her  own  words.  The  still- 
ness of  the  church  satisfied  her.  She  loved  its 
very  gloom;  but,  above  all,  she  loved  intuitively 
the  ever-watchful  light  before  the  tabernacle. 
She  never  felt  lonely  when  alone  before  that 
light.  Somehow,  there  her  burdens  seemed  to 
grow  lighter.  One  day  she  took  courage  to  go 
into  the  sacristy  and  ask  Father  Jackson  what 
the  lamp  meant  After  that  she  loved  the  sacred 
place  more  than  ever.  At  last  the  whole  desire 
of  her  life  seemed  within  her  grasp;  she  was 
nearer  to  God. 

One  day — she  afterward  remembered  it  well — 
two  Sisters  of  Charity  passed  her,  as  she  stood 
for  a  moment  in  the  vestibule  before  entering. 
Eleanor  had  never  seen  the  garb  of  a  Sister  at 
Redwood.  She  knew  the  costumes  of  religious 
only  from  an  occasional  picture  in  an  illustrated 
paper  and  the  pictures  in  her  father's  copy  of 
"Marmion."  The  two  that  she  now  met  repre- 
sented dreariness  and  sacrifice  to  her;  she  shrank 
from  them  instinctively,  and  then,  catching  sight 
of  the  face  of  one  of  them,  felt  repentant.  Surely 
thatface,so  clear,so  serene, must  be  near  to  God. 

A  vague  disquiet  filled  her  after  this,  as  she 
knelt  in  her  old  place  before  the  tabernacle.  She 


336      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

was  restless;  she  said  the  "Our  Father"  over  and 
over  again;  she  looked  up  into  the  benignant  face 
of  the  Mother  of  God,  the  Mystical  Rose;  but  she 
had  no  words  for  her. 

Her  restlessness  passed  away  after  a  time,  and 
a  fresh  breeze  seemed  to  blow  through  her  heart. 
She  arose,  and,  as  she  neared  the  confessional  at 
the  end  of  the  church — she  always  passed  it  with 
a  certain  sinking  of  the  heart, — she  was  amazed 
to  see  Belinda  examining  it  intently.  Belinda 
did  not  see  her;  she  lifted  the  green  baize  curtain 
with  the  air  of  one  looking  into  a  rattlesnake's 
den. 

"'Taint  very  comfortable,"  she  murmured, 
softly.  "There  ain't  much  luxury  there, — but  a 
person  with  a  load  on  her  mind  ain't  thinking 
much  of  Brussels  carpet  and  T)rocatelle  furniture." 

Poor  Belinda  sighed  loudly,  and,  turning,  saw 
Eleanor  -approaching.  They  went  out  into  the 
vestibule. 

"I  suppose  you  think  it's  queer  to  find  me  in  a 
Romish  Church,"  said  Belinda;  "and  I  never 
thought  I'd  come  to  it  myself.  But  sorrow  makes 
strange  companions.  Your  father's  all  right. 
That  trained  nurse  puts  on  a  lot  of  airs;  and, 
as  she  has  the  doctor  on  her  side,  I  just  thought 
I'd  leave  that  poky  little  flat  to  her,  and  do  a  little 
exploring  on  my  own  account.  I  tell  you  what, 
Eleanor  Redwood — and  you  may  give  me  notice 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     337 

when  you  hear  it,  but  I'll  not  leave,  all  the  same, 
— I  am  going  to  confession." 

Belinda  stopped  and  clutched  Eleanor's  arm, 
as  if  she  expected  her  to  faint  at  once. 

"Did  you  hear  what  I  said,  Eleanor  Redwood?" 

Eleanorwas  astonished  and  slightly  frightened. 
She  had  an  uneasy  feeling  that  Belinda  had  gone 
mad.  After  reflecting  a  moment,  her  first  impulse 
was  to  coax  her  home  and  put  her  to  bed. 

"Belinda,"  she  said,  soothingly,  "don't  talk 
that  way.  Let  us  go  home.  What  would  Mr. 
Stokes  say?  What  do  you  know  about  con- 
fession?" 

"Mr.  Stokes!"  said  Belinda,  with  contempt. 
"Why,  he's  the  weak-mindedest  creature  I  know. 
It's  my  belief  that  when  people  have  sons  they 
think  will  be  a  burden  on  the  country,  they  try 
to  make  ministers  of  them.  I  have  pumped  the 
girl  in  the  other  flat  about  confession — she's 
Irish,  but  she  can't  be  blamed  for  that — and  she's 
told  me  all  about  it.  And  it's  my  belief  it's 
Scriptural.  And  though  I  couldn't  accept  all  the 
things  the  Papists  swallow — such  as  the  worship 
of  graven  images — I'm  going  to  confession." 

Eleanor  could  think  of  no  answer  to  this.  Hap- 
pily, she  was  saved  from  her  embarrassment  by 
the  appearance  of  Father  Jackson.  He  entered 
hastily  from  the  street,  gave  a  quick  glance  at  the 
two  figures  in  the  vestibule,  and  smilingly  held 
out  his  hand  to  Eleanor. 


338      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"Miss  Redwood,"  he  said,  "I  have  some  work 
for  you.  I  have  been  on  a  sick  call,  and  I 
have  just  left  a  family  that  needs  your  help. 
They  haven't  much  to  eat,  I'm  afraid;  and  the 
mother  is  ill.  Will  you  help  them?" 

"I'm  opposed  to  beggars,"  snapped  Belinda; 
"and  I  don't  believe  in  encouraging  laziness. 
Nobody  need  starve  in  America  that  wants  to 
work." 

Father  Jackson  looked  with  a  smile  at  Belinda's 
rugged,  honest  and  determined  countenance;  he 
saw  something  good  beyond  the  angularities. 

"It's  only  Belinda,"  observed  Eleanor,  apolo- 
getically. "She  always  says  what  she  thinks." 

"A  bad  habit,"  said  Father  Jackson,  smiling  in 
a  way  that  disarmed  Belinda.  "But  she  may  say 
anything  she  chooses  after  she  has  done  something 
to  assist  the  poor  little  children  in  Cherry  Street." 

It  was  a  hot  day, — one  of  those  hot  days  in 
early  summer  which  burn  and  enervate  the  more 
because  the  human  race  is  unprepared  for  them. 
Father  Jackson  took  out  his  handkerchief  and 
wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead.  Be- 
linda's heart  was  further  touched  by  the  sight  of 
a  small  hole  in  the  corner  of  the  handkerchief. 

"Poor  young  man!"  she  said  to  herself.  "I 
don't  know  what  the  Romish  Church  can  be 
thinking  about  to  let  its  ministers  go  around  in 
that  fashion.  The  Romish  Church  may  despise 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      339 

and  downtread  the  female  sex,  but  you  can't  have 
whole  pocket-handkerchiefs  without  'em." 

Father  Jackson  waited  for  her  to  say  something, 
with  a  humorous  gleam  in  his  eyes.  As  she  was 
silent,  he  turned  to  Eleanor. 

"  Will  you  see  my  poor  people  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  Father,"  she  answered. 

He  scribbled  an  address  on  his  card  and  gave  it 
to  her.  Then  he  began,  with  a  smile  :  "  And  I 
trust  Miss  Belinda  — 

"  I've  never  refused  to  do  my  duty,  I  hope," 
said  Belinda ;  "  not  even  when  my  conscience 
didn't  altogether  approve.  And  if  Eleanor  Red- 
wood trusts  herself  in  the  slums  after  pampered 
paupers,  I'm  not  going  to  leave  her  in  the  lurch." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Father  Jackson,  relieved  to 
have  these  two  interested  in  his  charges ;  for  he 
felt  that  he  could  trust  them  both.  "  And  if  I 
can  do  anything  for  you  — 

"  Yes,  you  can,"  snapped  Belinda ;  "  you  can 
hear  my  confession." 

Father  Jackson  stepped  back,  amazed.  "I 
didn't  know  that  you  were  a  Catholic." 

"  No  more  I  am.  And  I  suppose  what  I'm 
saying  will  make  my  poor  father  and  mother  turn 
in  their  graves,  but  I  can't  help  it;  I've  got  to 
have  some  comfort ;  and  if  the  Protestant  religion 
had  provided  it  I  wouldn't  be  traipesin'  after 
Romish  priests  at  my  age.  It's  all  Martin  Luther's 


340      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

fault,  anyhow ;  and  if  I'm  doing  wrong,  he'll 
suffer  for  it." 

Father  Jackson  drew  down  the  corners  of  his 
mouth  to  prevent  a  smile.  The  mixture  of  seri- 
ousness and  grotes'queness  in  Belinda's  attitude 
toward  religion  had  a  certain  element  of  humor  in 
it  which  he  found  hard  to  resist. 

"  If  you  will  come  into  the  parlor,"  he  said,  "  I 
shall  be  glad  to  talk  to  you  a  while  on  the  most 
important  subject  in  this  world  or  the  next.  I 
have  a  spare  half  hour.  And,  Miss  Redwood,  as 
you  seem  interested  in  the  Church,  I  shall  be  glad 
to  give  you  some  books.  Come,  my  child,"  he 
said  to  Belinda ;  "  I  can  see  that  you  are  suf- 
fering." 

Belinda  looked  embarrassed.  To  be  called 
"  child "  by  one  so  much  younger  than  herself 
would  have  excited  her  indignation  at  any  other 
time ;  but  there  was  something  in  Father  Jackson's 
tone  that  made  her  feel  very  humble  and  meek. 

"  Indeed  I  am  suffering,  Mr.  Jackson  —  " 

"  Father,"  he  said. 

She  hesitated,  and  then,  in  a  low  voice  not 
usual  with  her,  she  went  on :  "  Yes,  I  am  suffer- 
ing, Father.  But  mind,"  she  said,  raising  her 
voice,  "  I  don't  want  to  be  a  Romanist ;  I  just 
want  to  tell  my  sins  and  get  rid  of  them." 

"  You  want  to  get  nearer  to  God,  don't  you  —  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  oh,  yes,  /  do  !  "  exclaimed  Eleanor, 
involuntarily. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      341 

"  Then,"  answered  the  priest,  with  tender  grav- 
ity, "  you  want  to  be  Catholics  —  both  of  you." 

Father  Jackson  led  the  way  in  silence  through 
the  sacristy  into  the  parlor  of  the  rectory ;  then  he 
disappeared  for  a  few  moments,  leaving  Eleanor 
and  Belinda  seated  on  a  sofa  opposite  an  expres- 
sive copy  of  Murillo's  "  Immaculate  Conception." 
Eleanor  felt  a  strange  timidity,  a  trembling,  al- 
most a  fear ;  until  he  came  she  fixed  her  eyes  on 
the  upturned  face  of  the  Mother  of  God  and 
prayed  without  words, —  for  she  had  never  been 
taught  those  words,  fraught  with  all  consolation, 
with  which  the  universal  Church  salutes  the 
Mother  of  God  and  asks  her  all-powerful  interces- 
sion. Father  Jackson  began  very  simply  and 
gently  to  teach  Belinda  that  she  could  not  go  to 
confession  without  becoming  a  Catholic. 

When  Eleanor  and  Belinda  left  the  rectory, 
they  had  made  their  first  step  toward  the  Light. 
It  was  remarkable  —  and  Eleanor  often  thought  it 
so  afterward  —  that  she  and  Belinda,  each  so 
utterly  different  from  the  other,  should  become 
one  in  hope  and  faith,  drawn  together  by  entirely 
opposite  motives.  They  went  back  to  the  flat  in 
silence,  but  Belinda  had  an  air  of  cheerfulness 
which  for  many  years  she  had  lacked. 

u  That  priest,"  she  said,  "  knows  I'm  a  Martha. 
He  doesn't  expect  me  to  be  flopping  down  on  my 
knees  and  singing  hymns  all  day,  when  I've  got 


342      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

the  pots  and  pans  to  look  after.  I'll  just  do  what 
he  says.  God  must  have  the  heart  of  a  good  man 
like  that.  I  wish  Mr.  Stokes  could  hear  him 
talk." 

The  Judge  was  still  resting  when  they  reached 
home.  The  nurse  permitted  Eleanor  to  kiss  her 
father's  forehead  in  silence,  but  no  word  was  al- 
lowed to  be  spoken. 

After  a  rather  hasty  dinner,  Eleanor  and  Be- 
linda, with  the  guidance  of  the  servant  upstairs, 
with  whom  Belinda  had  formed  an  acquaintance- 
ship, started  toward  Cherry  Street.  Eleanor  pro- 
vided herself  with  a  bottle  of  cordial,  some  fruit, 
and  a  number  of  clean  towels ;  and  Belinda  filled 
a  basket  with  an  enormous  currant  cake  baked  in 
the  shape  of  a  turban,  around  and  in  which  she  ar- 
ranged a  number  of  her  justly  famous  cookies.  It 
had  been  understood  that  Father  Jackson's  clients 
in  Cherry  Street  were  ill,  and  it  was  Belinda's 
private  opinion  that  no  child  could  be  ill  enough 
not  to  be  restored  by  her  cake. 

It  was  a  hot  evening.  The  heat  had  descended 
suddenly,  as  if  a  great  cone  had  enclosed  the 
earth  and  shut  off  all  ventilation.  Had  it  been 
the  middle  of  August,  the  temperature  would  have 
been  more  seasonable.  As  it  was  —  coming  sud- 
denly as  it  had, —  it  was  almost  intolerable  to 
the  people  in  the  better  parts  of  the  city.  Din- 
ner parties  were  postponed  because  of  it,  and 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      343 

dancing  assemblies  for  that  night  were  declared 
out  of  the  question.  Belinda  almost  suffocated  in 
her  best  garments,  in  spite  of  the  big  palm-leaf 
fan,  elaborately  trimmed  around  the  border  with 
purple  ribbon. 

Their  companion,  the  servant — a  young  girl 
recently  "  out  "  over  whom  Belinda  had  gained  an 
amazing  influence  in  a  short  time, —  sat  meekly  on 
the  edge  of  the  car  seat,  while  the  autocrat  of  the 
kitchen  explained  in  a  loud  voice  her  method  of 
making  batter  pudding  without  eggs.  The  tired 
and  heated  faces  in  the  car  took  on  grins  and 
smiles  as  she  proceeded  solemnly  and  dogmatically, 
as  if  she  were  giving  her  experience  in  "  meeting  "; 
and  Eleanor  was  startled  when  the  newsboy  who 
passed  through  the  car  paused  a  moment  and 
chanted  admiringly,  with  the  indescribable  Bowery 
accent:  "  My  !  isn't  she  a  corker." 

It  happened  that  the  young  servant,  Ann  Rux- 
ton,  had  relatives  in  Cherry  Street,  and  she  led 
the  way  to  it  easily.  Eleanor  felt  that  it  would 
be  a  relief  to  leave  the  crowded  car  and  to  breathe 
in  the  open  air  ;  but  the  open  air  was  stifling,  and 
the  front  of  the  tenement  house  —  the  place  indi- 
cated by  Father  Jackson's  address  —  appalled  her. 

"  Do  these  poor  people  live  here  always  ?  "  she 
asked  of  Ann  Ruxton. 

"  Sure  they  do.  Where  else  can  they  live  ?  " 
asked  the  Irish  girl.  "  I  often  do  be  wondering 
why  they  don't  starve  at  home  in  the  fresh  air." 


344      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Belinda  made  no  remark.  The  street,  now  in 
twilight,  actually  swarmed  with  men,  women  and 
children,  in  all  positions.  The  children  were  in 
all  conditions  of  undress.  The  street  was  dark, 
dirty,  hot.  The  heat  seemed  to  radiate  from  the 
sidewalks  and  the  murky  bricks  of  the  houses. 
The  steps  of  this  special  tenement  were  filled  with 
women  and  children.  One  poor  woman  with  a 
little  child  at  her  breast,  lay  with  her  back  against 
the  sill  of  the  open  door,  fairly  gasping  for  breath. 
The  child  was  wailing  in  a  way  that  went  to  El- 
eanor's heart.  The  doorsteps  along  the  row  of 
houses  were  crowded  with  human  beings  gasping 
for  air.  Here  were  two  women  sociably  sharing 
the  contents  of  a  beer  can  and  trying  to  drown 
their  discomfort  with  shrill  laughter  and  slang. 

Another  woman,  broom  in  hand,  was  cursing  a 
brood  of  children,  half-dressed,  who  had  rushed 
out  of  the  house,  dripping  with  water,  from  a 
bath  in  the  sink.  The  fire-escapes  were  filled  with 
gasping  people,  whose  only  consolation  seemed  to 
be  the  beer  can,  which  circulated  in  all  directions. 
The  cries  of  babies  were  heard  on  every  side  ;  not 
the  cries  of  healthy  children,  but  the  long,  low 
wails  —  continual,  ceaseless  —  of  suffering. 

Up  the  dark  and  dirty  stairs  Ann  Ruxton  led 
the  way,  after  several  enquiries,  very  civilly  an- 
swered. At  last  they  found  themselves  in  a  room 
on  the  fourth  floor,  lit  by  a  kerosene  lamp,  whose 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      345 

light  was  much  obscured  by  a  dirty  glass.  At 
first  Eleanor  did  not  discern  who  were  in  the  room ; 
as  her  eyes  became  habituated  to  the  gloom,  she 
saw  a  woman  of  middle  age,  with  her  head  on  her 
hand,  seated  near  a  mattress  on  the  floor.  The 
room  was  without  carpet;  one  chair,  a  table,  a 
stove,  and  a  large  clothes-basket,  near  which  stood 
a  tub  and  washboard,  made  its  equipment.  In  a 
corner  crouched  two  young  girls,  not  over  ten 
years  of  age.  Near  them  on  the  floor  lay  a  young 
man,  in  the  striped  "  jumper "  of  a  laborer  of  the 
warehouses.  He  breathed  heavily ;  and  Eleanor, 
answering  the  greeting  of  the  prematurely  aged 
woman,  asked :  "  Is  he  —  sick  ?  " 

"  Sick  ?  "  echoed  the  woman,  bitterly.  "  Yes, 
sick  in  his  soul, —  sick  with  the  drink.  He  was 
a  fine  boy  when  I  brought  him  to  this  country  — 
God  forgive  me !  —  five  years  ago ;  but  you  see 
what  he  is  now.  Though  he's  my  own  son,  I 
sincerely  wish  Almighty  God  would  take  him 
before  he  commits  more  sin." 

Eleanor  started,  shocked  by  the  mother's  tone. 
Belinda,  with  a  glance  of  contempt  at  the  prostrate 
man,  approached  the  mattress  on  which  a  small 
object  lay.  The  mother  caught  the  glance  and 
resented  it. 

"He  was  once  a  good  boy,"  she  said;  "and 
maybe  God  will  turn  him  against  the  drink  yet, 
for  'tis  his  only  fault." 


34fi      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

The  object  on  the  bed  was  a  little  child. 
Belinda  raised  the  dingy  lamp  to  look  at  it.  It 
was  of  a  waxy  paleness,  fragile,  attenuated ;  and 
the  only  sign  of  life  it  showed  was  the  gasps  it 
made  for  air. 

"  Father  Jackson  sent  us,"  Eleanor  said. 

"  God  bless  him  !  "  answered  the  woman.  "  If 
it  hadn't  been  for  him,  I  don't  know  how  we'd 
have  got  through  the  winter,  with  Jim  out  of 
work  most  of  the  time,  and  the  father's  funeral 
expenses  to  pay.  The  little  girls  there  got  their 
shoes  at  the  parochial  school.  We  managed  to 
drag  along  somehow ;  but  now  little  Bride  is  sick, 
and  I've  no  strength  left." 

Eleanor  gently  raised  the  child's  head.  "A 
week  in  the  cool  country  air  would  bring  the 
little  thing  back  to  life.  It  must  have  air  !  "  she 
exclaimed. 

The  mother  shook  her  head  despairingly. 
Eleanor  opened  the  window-shutters,  and  the 
babel  of  noises  in  the  street  made  its  way  into  the 
room.  There  were  curses  and  outcries  and 
drunken  laughter. 

"  I'm  no  worse  off  than  the  rest  of  us  here.  If 
it's  not  heat  it's  cold,"  said  the  mother ;  "  though 
more  children  die  of  the  heat." 

Eleanor,  standing  in  the  semi-gloom,  in  the 
still,  ill-smelling  atmosphere  of  the  room,  felt  that 
she  must  stifle  if  she  remained  there.  She  spoke 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      347 

to  the  little  girls,  who  were  half-asleep,  but 
restless.  Belinda  elbowed  the  mother  aside,  and 
sent  her  out  for  water.  The  towels  were  very 
useful  now,  and  soon  the  little  child  ceased  to 
moan  so  piteously ;  for  Belinda's  strong  arms 
gently  held  and  fanned  it. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  mother,  gratefully. 
"  I'd  like  to  do  what  you  have  done,  but  what 
with  washing  all  day,  and  with  the  sorrow  of 
Jim's  coming  home,  the  life's  just  worn  out  of  me." 

Eleanor  and  Belinda  did  what  they  could,  and 
left  Mrs.  Green  with  a  promise  to  return  the  next 
day.  And  as  they  passed  out  through  the  streets, 
hot,  dirty,  gloomy,  reeking  with  misery,  they  were 
silent.  How  little  they  in  their  quiet  country 
town  had  known  of  real  wretchedness. 

Eleanor  did  not  return  the  next  day.  When 
she  reached  home,  the  doctor  met  her  at  the  door. 

"  Prepare  yourself,  Miss  Redwood,  for  a  great 
change.  Your  father  cannot  live  through  the 
night." 

Eleanor  did  not  answer.  She  had  hoped  and 
feared,  but  she  felt  now  that  she  had  never  feared 
the  worst. 

"  We  hoped  that  one  chance  — "  the  doctor 
continued.  She  motioned  him  not  to  speak  ;  a 
great  sob  burst  from  her.  Death  had  come  so 
many  times  in  the  world,  but  it  was  as  new  and 
awful  as  if  it  had  come  for  the  first  time. 


348      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  Father  Jackson  is  with  him,"  the  doctor 
added,  after  a  while.  "  He  asked  for  a  priest,  and 
seemed  to  prefer  him." 

Eleanor  went  into  the  parlor,  and  stood  near 
the  window.  There  was  a  murmuring  in  her 
father's  room,  and  she  could  see  the  light  of  a 
candle  through  the  crack  of  the  sh'ding  doors. 
Belinda  and  her  friend  the  servant  were  mercifully 
silent. 

After  a  time  Father  Jackson  came  out  of  the 
room,  and  led  Eleanor  to  her  father's  bedside. 
The  Judge  looked  very  white  and  peaceful ;  he 
tried  to  smile  as  Eleanor  entered.  Then  he 
looked  toward  the  crucifix  ;  and  Eleanor,  in  a 
sudden  inspiration,  took  it  from  the  table,  and 
held  it  before  him.  She  kissed  his  hand,  and  he 
raised  it  for  a  moment  as  if  in  blessing.  Eleanor 
fixed  her  eyes  on  the  dear  face.  A  tear  —  the 
first  she  had  seen  her  father  shed  —  rolled  down 
his  cheek,  as  he  looked,  with  all  his  heart  in  his 
eyes,  at  the  figure  of  our  Blessed  Redeemer. 

"I  wish  I  had  known,"  he  murmured. 
"  Mother  of  God,  pray  — " 

The  glitter  of  the  tear  in  the  light  of  the  candle 
seemed  to  absorb  all  the  life  of  his  eyes.  He 
turned  toward  Eleanor  —  and  was  gone  ;  she  was 
alone. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      349 

XXVII. 

The  thoughts  of  the  youth  are  the  actions  of  the  man.  And 
he  who  gives  way  to  the  counsels  of  the  world  many  times  in 
small  things,  nnds  it  hard  to  resist  the  counsels  of  the  devil  in 
great  things.  —  St.  Maur. 

WHILE  Mrs.  Desmond  led  her  lonely  life  at 
Redwood,  living  from  day  to  day  in  the  knowl- 
edge that  her  son  was  not  far  from  her,  and 
thankful  that  he  was  safe  from  the  temptations  of 
a  great  city,  at  least  for  a  time,  Patrick  was 
absorbed  in  the  excitement  of  watching  Eleanor's 
interests  at  the  mines  of  Eaglescliff.  He  had  not 
heard  from  Eleanor  since  the  brief  line,  written 
by  Mary  Fitzgerald  at  her  request,  had  announced 
her  father's  death.  He  had  cut  loose  entirely 
from  Miles ;  and  Nellie  constantly  bewailed  the 
ingratitude  of  the  serpent  she  had  nourished  in 
her  flat,  as  she  pathetically  put  it,  on  all  the  lux- 
uries of  the  season.  The  truth  was  that  Miles 
scarcely  needed  a  secretary,  so  idle  and  careless 
had  he  become  of  late ;  and  Nellie  was  very  glad 
to  explain  the  "  failing  through  "  of  her  visit  to 
Saratoga  by  declaring  that  Patrick's  defection  had 
thrown  so  much  work  on  her  hands,  that  she  was 
actually  prevented  from  entering  the  fashionable 
whirl.  She  had  become  more  and  more  devoted 
to  her  friend  the  Baroness ;  and  Miles  had  been 
presented  to  the  ingenuous  Mr.  Bayard,  who,  with 
his  wiie,  had  made  a  flying  visit  to  New  York. 


350      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Miles  had  a  feverish  period  of  activity  during 
Bayard's  visit.  Bayard  had  managed,  by  means 
known  only  to  himself  at  this  time,  to  acquire  a 
major  interest  in  a  large  number  of  Fly-Away 
Mine  shares ;  and  these  he  had  sold  to  Miles,  and 
for  them  the  latter  had  given  all  the  money  he 
could  beg  or  borrow.  His  borrowings  were  gen- 
erally in  small  sums  from  comparatively  poor  con- 
stituents ;  they  had  gone  into  the  coal-mine  stock, 
sold  by  Bayard  because  he  needed  the  money. 
Bayard  sold  all  he  could  get,  though  the  stock 
was  steadily  going  up. 

Arthur  Fitzgerald,  who  had  gone  back  to  New 
York,  was  bitten  by  the  craze  for  speculation. 
He  bought  in  the  small  interest  his  client  had  in 
the  mines,  and,  after  the  Judge's  death,  made 
Desmond  an  offer  for  Eleanor's  shares,  —  an  offer 
which  would  have  meant  ruin  for  him  and  for 
several  of  his  friends  had  the  mines  failed.  But 
Desmond  refused.  He  had  begun  to  look  on  the 
shares  as  his  own.  Arthur,  inspired  perhaps  by 
Mary,  who  had  a  womanly  taste  for  match-making, 
had  hinted  more  than  once  to  Desmond  that  he 
had  only  to  ask  to  be  accepted.  All  men  at  Des- 
mond's age  have  a  fair  share  of  vanity,  more  or 
less  tempered  by  good  sense ;  and  so  earnest  was 
Arthur's  assurance,  and  so  successful  was  Patrick 
in  the  management  of  affairs  at  Eaglescliff,  that 
the  latter  felt  justified  in  believing  that  Eleanor 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      351 

would  not  refuse.  And  now  there  was  no 
obstacle.  Eleanor  was  about  to  enter  the  Church, 
and  Dr.  Talbot  had  thoroughly  dissipated  the  fear 
of  his  mother  that  there  was  insanity  in  her  blood. 
He  now  felt  strong  enough  to  overcome  his 
mother's  opposition. 

Several  weeks  of  exciting  work,  mental  and 
physical,  passed  at  Eaglescliff.  There  was  only 
one  opinion  in  the  place  —  Patrick  Desmond  had 
developed  into  a  shrewd  man  of  business ;  his 
opportunity  had  come,  and  he  had  seized  it  with 
no  uncertain  grasp.  It  was  generally  said  that  he 
would  be  a  successful  man.  The  lessons  he  had 
learned  daring  his  apprenticeship  at  Redwood 
were  useful  to  him  now,  and  he  put  them  into 
practice.  As  yet  he  had  not  found  out  the  mean- 
ing of  Bayard's  telegram  advising  him  to  sell,  — 
that  telegram  which  he  had  read  by  accident. 
In  fact,  he  had  forgotten  it  in  the  multitude  of 
anxieties. 

Desmond  was  immersed  in  business  thoughts; 
he  had  no  time  for  anything  else.  The  thought 
even  of  Eleanor  was  not  what  it  had  been  at  first. 
It  was  not  like  a  breeze  over  a  field  of  fresh 
flowers,  calm  and  cool.  It  was  not  of  reverence, 
of  doubt  of  his  own  worthiness,  of  the  sweet 
unreason  of  the  love  which  Coventry  Patmore 
describes.  There  was  reason  enough  in  his  mind 
now.  His  marriage  to  Eleanor  Redwood — he 


352      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

felt  that  lie  had  a  right  to  ask  her,  since  he  had 
helped  to  save  her  property  —  would  realize  all 
his  dreams. 

After  his  day's  work  he  betook  himself  to  his 
room  at  the  hotel,  and  built  castles  in  the  air. 
And  these  castles  were  not  without  foundation ; 
for  the  Fly- Away  Mines  were  gaining  gradually 
in  public  favor  on  the  stock  exchanges.  Des- 
mond's dreams  were  not  of  the  kind  of  which 
Jack  Conlon  would  have  approved.  He  planned 
no  great  church  now ;  he  never  thought  of  the 
problems  which  John  Longworthy  had  touched 
on  in  his  book ;  the  condition  of  the  Grogans  and 
the  other  people  whom  he  had  seen  in  New 
York  occupied  him  no  more ;  he  had  one  object 
in  his  mind,  one  question  occupied  him ;  and  this 
question  was  :  How  to  make  money  ?  He  read 
with  interest  of  the  doings  of  the  millionnaires  as 
chronicled  in  the  New  York  and  Chicago  papers. 
Some  day  he  would  be  a  millionnaire  and  become 
all-powerful.  He  recalled  some  of  Miles'  cynical 
sayings  about  the  power  of  money,  and  gave 
assent  to  them.  Shylock's  cry,  in  which  he  min- 
gled his  daughter  and  his  ducats,  was  not  alto- 
gether foreign  to  Desmond's  thoughts,  though  he 
was  no  Shylock.  Nevertheless,  the  question  of 
money  had  come  to  hold  in  his  mind  a  place  be- 
side the  question  of  love.  If  Eleanor  had  been 
poor,  he  would  have  worked  for  her  all  his  life 


fHE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      353 

without  the  thought  of  sacrifice  ;  he  would  have 
waited  for  her  with  the  patience  of  Jacob,  and 
worked  the  while  ;  he  would  have  grown  purer 
and  manlier  for  the  discipline  of  patience  and 
of  labor. 

As  it  was,  Patrick  Desmond  was  not  the 
Patrick  Desmond  of  his  mother's  thoughts  or  of 
Jack  Conlon's  hopes.  He  was  neither  mean  nor 
sordid,  and  yet  the  example  of  the  Redwood 
practices  —  which  meant  that  anything  short  of 
legal  robbery  was  fair  —  had  its  effect  on  him.  He 
smiled  a  little  at  Jack  Conlon's  ideals  when  the 
thought  of  them  crossed  his  mind.  How  little 
Jack  knew  of  the  trials  and  temptations  of  real 
life.  How  little  he  knew  of  the  tricks  and 
evasions  and  sharp  turns  by  which  a  man,  hand 
to  hand  against  the  world,  was  obliged  to  resort 
to  if  he  would  grow  rich.  Desmond  found  that, 
by  the  careful  use  of  a  little  money  of  his  own, 
he  could  do  things  that  surprised  him.  He  could 
not  buy  a  single  share  of  the  Fly-Away  stock; 
for  nobody,  except  Bayard's  friends  and  Fitzger- 
ald's client,  had  sold  out,  and  that  had  been  done 
very  quietly.  But  he  had  quadrupled  his  money ; 
and  Arthur  Fitzgerald  had,  by  Eleanor's  direction, 
allowed  him  a  liberal  salary.  Desmond  looked 
into  a  golden  future,  —  a  future  in  which  ho  be- 
held Self  glorified. 

His   mother  noticed  a  difference  in  him  when. 


354      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

he  came  back  to  Redwood.  He  was  impatient  of 
her  simplicity ;  she  had  come  to  love  the  poverty 
he  despised.  Its  shifts  and  ingenuities  meant 
independence  to  her.  She  loved  the  scarlet  sage 
which  made  a  hedge  between  her  yard  and  the 
back  street,  the  crab-apple  tree  which  gave  her 
the  famous  preserve  whose  flavor  she  improved 
every  year,  her  old  stove,  and  the  rag  carpet. 
Desmond  found  all  these  badges  of  the  poverty 
of  his  youth  intolerable.  He  was  preoccupied; 
he  listened  to  her  half-impatiently ;  he  sneered 
at  Mrs.  Howard  Sykes'  brilliant  turnout  as  it 
scattered  the  dust ;  he  criticised  the  houses  of  the 
great,  and  kept  very  much  to  himself.  His  mother 
was  jealous ;  she  attributed  this  change  to  Eleanor, 
until  she  found,  when  he  had  gone,  after  a  long, 
dull  Sunday,  during  which  he  had  not  disguised 
his  impatience  to  get  away,  many  scraps  of  paper 
covered  with  lead-pencilled  figures.  She  shook 
her  head,  but  felt  relieved  that  the  magnet  which 
was  attracting  her  boy  was  not  the  love  of  Eleanor 
Redwood. 

Bayard  had  returned  to  Redwood,  leaving  his 
wife  in  New  York.  He  hated  Desmond,  princi- 
pally because  he  felt  sure  that  he  and  Laura  might 
control  Eleanor,  now  that  the  Judge  was  dead,  if 
Desmond  did  not  stand  in  the  way.  Besides, 
Desmond  was  associated  in  his  mind  with  defeat. 
It  was  his  opinion  that  Desmond  would  marry 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATEICK  DESMOND.      355 

Eleanor,  not  for  love,  but  for  money  ;  and  he 
disliked  bitterly  the  thought  of  a  possible  triumph 
on  Desmond's  part.  Again,  he  was  ashamed  of 
his  part  in  his  wife's  absurd  plan  for  the  marriage 
of  the  Baroness  and  Desmond.  Had  it  succeeded, 
he  would  have  had  more  shares  to  sell;  he  re- 
gretted the  shares,  but  he  felt  a  sincere  pleasure 
in  knowing  that  Desmond  had  not  as  yet  con- 
cluded to  sell.  Bayard  feared  that  he  might,  — 
feared  that  he  was  only  holding  on  for  a  grand 
stroke,  which  would  carry  him  aloft  to  fortune. 

Desmond's  manner  to  Bayard,  when  they  hap- 
pened to  meet,  was  exasperatingly  cold  ;  and  one 
day  when  Bayard  had  played  a  very  clever  and 
shabby  business  trick,  and  boasted  of  it,  Desmond 
remembered  the  crumpled  telegram  which  had 
blown  into  the  car  window.  He  coolly  alluded  to 
it  ;  he  felt  that  he  could  afford  to  be  insolent. 
The  other  changed  color  ;  he  had  trusted  that  it 
had  entirely  escaped  Desmond's  memory. 

"  You  will  act  on  it,  of  course  ?  "  he  said.  "  It 
was  good  advice  then." 

"  And  why  not  now?"  Desmond  asked,  mock- 


Bayard's  face,  always  pale,  became  green;  he 
made  a  sudden  resolution,  and  that  day  he  sold 
the  few  remaining  shares  he  held.  Having  paid 
back  the  money  he  had  borrowed,  he  was  comfort- 
ably well  off.  He  said  to  himself  that  now  he 


356      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

could  afford  to  be  honest  —  if  it  paid.  The  men 
who  had,  under  an  unusual  temptation  to  do  so, 
trusted  him  with  their  money,  pocketed  their 
portion  of  the  profits  and  felt  no  qualms  of  con- 
science. They  had  completed  a  sharp  business 
transaction.  When  the  truth  came  out,  who 
would  condemn  them?  Not  public  opinion.  Pub- 
lic opinion  had  long  ago  settled  that  morality 
in  business  was  merely  a  matter  of  law,  —  not 
Christian  law,  but  a  different  thing.  There  were 
several  men  in  Eaglescliff  —  prominent  men,  lead- 
ing citizens,  members  of  churches  —  who  held 
that  Desmond  was  either  a  most  daring  young 
man  or  a  fool.  But  most  people  believed,  as  the 
Fly-Away  stock  went  steadily  up,  that  Desmond 
would  be  a  millionnaire.  That  was  his  own  belief, 
too. 

It  was  Bayard's  opinion  that  Desmond  would 
sell  out  the  shares  when  they  had  reached  the 
highest  possible  value.  He  cursed  the  ill-luck  by 
which  Desmond  had  got  hold  of  his  telegram  to 
the  Baroness.  Bayard  was  safe  enough  himself 
financially :  Laura  could  enjoy  herself  in  New 
York  for  a  time  in  her  own  way,  and  all  her  Red- 
wood bills  had  been  paid ;  but  he  hated  to  think 
that  Desmond  should  profit  by  the  new  facts 
brought  out  about  the  mines.  Against  Eleanor 
he  had  no  feeling,  but  he  could  not  endure  the 
vision  of  Desmond's  supremacy.  He  knew  better 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      357 

than  any  man  the  weakness  of  the  mines ;  he  had 
learned  that,  in  spite  of  the  recent  discoveiy  of 
new  beds  of  coal,  the  water  surrounding  the  mines 
was  a  constant  menace.  The  oldest  miners  shook 
their  heads,  and  were  careful  not  to  strike  too 
deep  into  the  walls  on  the  water  side.  But  Des- 
mond, clever  as  he  was,  was  not  a  miner ;  and  the 
surface  indications,  the  reports  of  those  interested 
in  keeping  the  mines  going,  had  weight  with  him. 
The  old  miners  did  their  work  and  said  little  ;  as 
long  as  the  rats  stayed  they  could  stay. 

In  the  meantime  Desmond  enjoyed  immensely 
the  adulation  he  received.  It  seemed  very  easy 
to  rule  the  world;  and  his  manner  took  an  im- 
portance which  made  Bayard  wild  with  rage  when 
he  met  him.  Patrick  copied  successfully  —  and 
perhaps  unconsciously  —  the  manner  of  the  rich 
men  of  Redwood.  People  found  no  fault  with 
him  for  the  assumption  of  a  manner  befitting  his 
station  in  life,  but  some  privately  bewailed  the 
blindness  of  Judge  Redwood's  daughter  in  giving 
such  an  opportunity  to  one  of  the  Irish  from 
"  over  the  river." 

Desmond  had  in  his  desk  a  standing  offer  for 
all  the  shares  he  had,  at  the  ruling  price.  All  he 
would  have  to  do  would  be  to  send  the  message 
"  Sell  "  to  Arthur  Fitzgerald  or  his  representative 
in  New  York,  and  the  shares  would  change  hands 
in  less  than  half  an  hour.  But  Desmond  had  no 


358      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

intention  of  accepting  this  offer.  He  knew  that 
Arthur  Fitzgerald  wanted  the  shares  badly ;  but 
he  was  determined  to  make  them  the  first  round 
in  a  golden  ladder  which,  mounted  adroitly,  would 
make  him  the  envy  of  all  the  men  who  had  once 
looked  down  on  him.  If  Eleanor  had  alone  been 
concerned,  he  would  probably  have  sold  out  the 
shares,  and  put  her  money  —  with  Fitzgerald's 
concurrence  —  into  property  whose  value  would 
fluctuate  less.  As  it  was,  he  had  argued  himself 
into  the  belief  that  the  stock  would  always  be  his 
to  manipulate  —  he  preferred  to  hold  it. 

Immediately  after  the  Judge's  death,  Mary 
Fitzgerald  had  obliged  Eleanor  and  Belinda  to 
come  to  her.  And  in  an  atmosphere  of  the  deep- 
est sympathy  Eleanor  spent  the  earliest  days  of 
her  mourning.  At  first  she  did  not  realize  what 
had  taken  place  ;  her  father  was  gone  —  she  knew 
that,  —  but  she  could  not  yet  understand  that  he 
was  gone  forever.  The  days  of  her  childhood 
came  back  to  her  again  ;  she  lived  in  them  ;  a 
hundred  details  of  her  father's  tender  love  re- 
curred to  her.  A  figure  passed  the  window,  a 
footstep  sounded.  Surely  it  was  he  !  And  then 
came  the  great  sense  of  loss.  In  consoling  Elea- 
nor, Mary  almost  forgot  her  solicitude  for  Miles ; 
nobody  could  have  done  the  work  more  effectu- 
ally, as  far  as  it  could  be  done  ;  but  there  was 
a  point  to  which  no  human  consolation  could 
reach. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      359 

"  At  least  I  can  pray  for  him !  "  Eleanor  ex- 
claimed one  day.  And  when  she  had  realized  this, 
Father  Jackson  needed  to  argue  with  her  no  more  : 
she  glided,  as  it  were,  into  the  Church. 

When  Eleanor  had  begun  again  to  take  an 
interest  in  ordinary  affaire,  she  heard  one  day,  by 
chance,  at  the  table,  that  Desmond  had  refused  to 
sell  Arthur  Fitzgerald  the  shares  he  coveted ;  and 
Arthur  congratulated  her  on  having  such  a  care- 
ful agent.  Later  she  asked  Mary  if  her  husband 
would  be  made  very  happy  if  she  sold  him  all 
or  a  part  of  the  shares.  Mary  had  not  answered 
at  once.  Then  she  had  said  : 

"  It  is  better  to  leave  these  matters  to  the  men, 
my  dear.  Mr.  Desmond  knows  best  what  is  for 
your  interest." 

"  And  Az's,"  she  added  in  her  mind,  but  she  did 
not  speak  it. 

Eleanor  thought  it  over ;  and  on  the  day  before 
the  great  storm  that  swept  over  the  Atlantic 
coast  and  made  an  epoch  from  which  many  people 
date  events,  she  came  to  the  conclusion  to  instruct 
Desmond  to  sell  the  shares.  She  was  not  a  woman 
of  business,  but  a  woman  of  gratitude.  What 
difference  did  it  make  to  her  now  whether  she 
were  rich  or  not  ?  And  surely  Mary  Fitzgerald's 
husband  deserved  all  the  kindness  she  could  show 
him.  In  the  afternoon,  just  as  she  was  about 
to  go  to  the  telegraph  office  with  her  message 
to  Desmond,  Laura  Bayard  sent  up  her  card. 


360      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Mrs.  Bayard  was  a  new  woman.  The  rather 
loud  and  gushing  Redwood  manner  had  been  re- 
placed by  a  reserve  which  went  well  with  a  care- 
ful manner  of  dress,  free  from  the  colors  in  which 
she  had  delighted  at  home.  The  blackened  eye- 
brows and  the  too-golden  hair  were  there,  but 
Eleanor  saw  a  look  of  true  sympathy  in  her  eyes  ; 
and  there  was  silence.  Eleanor  could  not  speak  ; 
for  this  woman  had  been  a  little  girl  with  her  and 
shared  her  dear  father's  care.  Laura  wiped  a 
tear  hastily  under  her  veil. 

"  I  come  to  ask  you  a  favor,"  Laura  said.  "  But 
first  I  must  ask  you  to  keep  the  nature  of  my 
errand  a  secret  —  don't  be  afraid :  it  concerns 
only  yourself." 

Eleanor,  softened  by  the  sight  of  her  old  friend, 
easily  promised. 

"  I  want  you,  Eleanor,  to  sell  your  stock  in  the 
Fly- A  way  Mines  as  soon  as  possible ;  Harry  has 
sold  his.  He  is  in  possession  of  information  — 
exclusive  information,  —  and  he  knows  that  in 
a  short  time  they  will  be  worthless.  I  have  al- 
ways liked  you,  Eleanor,  and  your  father  —  dear 
old  Judge !  —  was  always  good  to  me.  For  old 
friendship's  sake  I  have  come  to  you,  though  if 
Harry  knew  it  he  would  almost  kill  me.  He 
thinks — but  never  mind  what  he  thinks.  Take 
my  word,  Eleanor,  and  get  all  you  can  for  the 
stock  at  once." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        361 

Eleanor  was  silent  for  a  time.  "You  have 
done  me  a  great  kindness,  Laura,"  she  said,  in  the 
quiet,  low  tone  which  had  become  habitual  to  her 
of  late.  "  But  are  you  sure  —  " 

"  Sure  !  "  exclaimed  Laura.  "  I  am  certain  and 
positive  of  the  truth  of  what  I  say.  To  save  you, 
I  have  betrayed  Harry's  confidence  in.  me.  He 
has  no  grudge  against  you,  but  he  absolutely 
hates  Mr.  Desmond." 

"  But  how  can  it  affect  Mr.  Desmond  ?  " 

Mrs.  Bayard  smiled.  How  demure  these  quiet 
people  could  be,  she  thought.  Eleanor  was  too 
greatly  occupied  to  notice  the  smile. 

"  I  advise  you  to  sell ;  that  is  all,"  Laura  said. 

Eleanor  thanked  her.  The  talk  drifted  to  the 
old  days ;  and  when  Laura  Bayard  left,  she  con- 
gratulated herself  on  having  done  a  good  action 
and  made  sure  of  Eleanor's  gratitude,  should  her 
husband's  present  prosperity  prove  fleeting. 

Eleanor  did  not  send  the  telegram ;  a  little  later 
in  the  day  she  went  to  the  rectory  with  Belinda, 
who  was  temporarily  subdued,  for  the  usual  in- 
struction from  Father  Jackson.  She  determined 
to  ask  him  what  she  should  do,  as  the  case  stood. 
But  he  was  summoned  to  a  sick  call.  She  made 
her  third  visit  to  the  Blessed  Sacrament,  and 
stopped  at  the  telegraph  office  on  her  way  home, 
she  wrote : — 


362      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

To  PATRICK  DESMOND,  Eaglescliff. 
Whatever  happens,  do  not  sell  shares. 

ELEANOR  REDWOOD. 

"  A  night  message  ?  "  the  clerk  asked. 

Belinda  interposed.  "  Of  course  ! "  she  snapped. 
"  It's  twenty  cents  cheaper.  Do  you  want  to  rob 
people  with  your  day  messages  ?  " 

"  It  will  not  reach  him  until  eight  o'clock  to- 
morrow morning." 

"  That  will  be  time  enough,"  responded  Belinda. 
Eleanor  did  not  think  so. 

It  was  the  last  message  that  went  to  Eagles- 
cliff  that  night.  An  hour  later  the  storm  burst, 
and  every  telegraph  wire  around  Eaglescliff  was 
down.  An  hour  before,  Arthur  Fitzgerald  had 
telegraphed  to  Desmond  hir  highest  offer. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 


XXVIII. 

Success  means  not  what  a  man  gets,  but  the  attainment  of 
what  he  wants  to  get. — Paradoxes  of  a  Philosopher. 

THE  sunset  was  magnificent  and  the  air  was 
still  and  clear.  The  weather  had  been  dry  for 
many  days;  the  leaves  rustled,  but  the  keen  ear 
could  detect  in  their  rustle  a  different  sound  from 
that  of  early  summer :  it  was  sharper ;  they  rasped 
rather  than  rustled.  Perhaps  the  extreme  dry- 
ness  of  the  soil  and  the  trees  and  the  hedges  — 
the  appearance  of  anxious  waiting  which  nature 
puts  on  in  times  of  drought  —  had  something 
to  do  with  the  restless  anxiety  of  Patrick's  mind 
on  the  evening  before  the  great  storm. 

He  had  returned  from  supper,  which  he  had 
enjoyed  in  company  with  Mr.  Stokes,  who  had 
come  over  to  Eaglescliff  on  a  short  visit  to  his 
uncle,  one  of  the  merchants  of  the  town.  This 
uncle  was  a  leading  member  of  the  Baptist 
Church,  and  he  had  argued  forcibly  with  his 
nephew  on  the  absurdity  of  his  giving  up  the 
ministry. 

Patrick,  reasonably  content  (if  it  were  not  for 
this  strange  restlessness  which  seemed  to  be  in  the 
air),  well  dressed,  handsome,  made  a  marked 
contrast  to  the  dispirited  Mr.  Stokes,  whose 
"  waterfall,"  as  schoolboys  used  to  call  the  glossy 


364      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

circle  of  hair  on  his  forehead,  was  unkempt  and 
straggling,  and  whose  lank  duster  and  soiled  blue 
tie  reflected  the  struggles  of  his  mind.  Patrick 
caught  the  glance  of  his  soft,  appealing  eyes  as  he 
passed  him  in  the  street,  and  he  invited  his  limp 
friend  to  share  his  frugal  hotel  supper,  which 
consisted  of  a  number  of  dabs  of  various  indigesti- 
ble compounds  set  out  on  little  saucers. 

The  repast  was  not  inspiring,  nor  were  the 
hotel  surroundings.  The  dim  kerosene  lamps,  the 
paper  of  the  day  before  yesterday,  the  fly-blown 
advertisements  on  the  walls,  and  the  rickety  tables 
with  horrible  pens  with  which  no  man  could  write, 
seemed  calculated  to  drive  the  low-spirited  guest 
to  drink.  Desmond  asked  Mr.  Stokes  to  his  little 
office,  which  was  more  comfortable  than  the  com- 
mon room  of  the  khan. 

Desmond's  office  was  furnished  with  three 
chairs,  a  desk,  a  telephone,  and  a  pile  of  pamph- 
lets and  newspapers  on  the  window-sill.  It  would 
be  dreary  enough  in  the  light  of  the  usual  kerosene 
lamp;  but  the  sunset,  marvellous  in  luminous 
colors,  and  tints  of  dark-purple  flashed  with  red 
gold,  in  a  lake  of  the  palest  green,  illuminated 
the  place  and  filled  the  large  window.  All  the 
ragged  edges  of  daily  life  were  concealed  by  the  il- 
lusion ;  even  the  particles  of  metallic  dust  on  the 
pamphlets  in  the  window-sill  shot  out  little  gleams 
of  radiance. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     365 

Mr.  Stokes,  who  had  taken  one  of  the  chairs, 
sighed,  while  Desmond  went  to  the  window  to 
read  Eleanor's  telegram,  which  had  just  arrived. 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  remarked,  dismissing  the  boy 
who  had  brought  the  message.  "  Sell !  "  he  said 
to  himself,  with  a  little  chuckle.  "  I  have  no 
intention  of  selling.  It  would  be  suicide  to  sell 
shares  in  Fly- Away  just  now.  But  women  like 
to  give  advice,  and  I  suppose  one  must  pretend 
to  take  it." 

And  he  folded  the  telegram  tenderly  and  put 
it  into  his  waistcoat  pocket,  forgetting  for  the 
moment  that  Eleanor  herself  had  not  written  that 
precious  signature  with  her  own  hands. 

Mr.  Stokes  sighed  again. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  "  Desmond  asked, 
turning  from  the  sunset. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  wretched,"  he  answered.  "  I'm 
in  what  they  call  a  no-thoroughfare.  My  uncle 
says  I  am  a  fool,  and  that  I  ought  to  go  in 
and  be  a  minister.  He  wouldn't  help  toward  my 
college  expenses  before,  but  he  says  that  he'll  see 
me  through  now,  because  I'm  not  fit  for  anything 
else." 

Desmond  laughed.  "  I  don't  think  he  means 
it,  Stokes.  I'm  sure  he  wouldn't  have  you  be  a 
hypocrite." 

"  He  says  I'm  not  practical,  and  that  the  min- 
istry is  the  only  place  open  to  a  man  that's  not 


366      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

practical.  He  says  I  needn't  expect  to  make 
money  in  the  ministry,  —  that's  out  of  the  ques- 
tion, unless  I  develop  a  great  gift  for  preaching. 
He  says  that  religion  is  a  matter  of  sixteen  ounces 
to  the  pound,  and  that  nobody  believes  much 
more  than  that  nowadays  —  " 

"  And  most  of  them  don't  believe  that,"  inter- 
rupted Desmond,  with  another  laugh.  "  If  a  man 
doesn't  believe  in  heaven  or  hell,  he'll  find  it  much 
easier  to  give  twelve  ounces  to  the  pound,  pro- 
vided he  can  keep  out  of  the  penitentiary." 

"  Dogmas  have  got  to  go,"  said  Mr.  Stokes ; 
"  and  yet  I  don't  see  how  morality  can  be  kept 
up  without  them.  But  my  uncle  says  that  if  a 
Baptist  believes  in  immersion,  people  are  not  likely 
to  ask  questions  about  his  other  beliefs,  and  by 
and  by  he'll  work  into  the  respectable  beliefs. 
'  Believe,'  my  uncle  said,  '  that  you've  got  to  hold 
your  head  up  in  the  town  you  live  in,  and  don't 
bother  yourself  about  the  Presbyterians  or  the 
Revised  Version,  or  Probation.  But,'  he  added, 
'  if  I  had  my  way,  I'd  go  in  for  Probation  after 
death,  and  the  salvation  of  all  the  heathen,  be- 
cause I  don't  like  to  see  money  going  out  of  the 
country.' ' 

"  He  is  a  practical  man,"  Desmond  remarked, 
with  a  smile.  "  But  I  say,  Stokes,  why  don't  you 
examine  the  doctrines  of  the  Catholic  Church?" 

"  I  never  thought  of  it,"  answered  Mr.  Stokes  ; 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICE:  DESMOND.    367 

"  and  I  should  not  like  to.  You  see,  if  I  became 
a  Catholic,  nobody  would  speak  to  me  except 
yourself.  And  it  would  give  our  college  a  bad 
name  to  have  turned  out  a  Catholic." 

Desmond  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  "  But 
you  are  on  the  road  to  infidelity  now.  Isn't  that 
Avorse  ?  " 

"  Not  infidelity,"  said  Mr.  Stokes,  drawing  his 
limp  duster  about  him,  and  stretching  himself  out, 
so  that  his  feet  rested  comfortably  on  the  other 
chair.  "  I'm  a  little  broad  in  my  opinions,  but  it 
takes  a  great  deal  of  breadth  to  be  considered  an 
infidel  by  Protestants  nowadays.  We  are  more 
tolerant  than  you  are  in  these  matters.  I  am 
much  attracted  by  Buddhism;  there's  so  much 
color  in  it.  And,  then,  the  nirvdna,  and  the 
golden  lotus,  —  it's  very  sweet.  Mrs.  Bayard  has 
a  sister,  the  Baroness  Something  or  Other,  who  is 
about  to  adopt  Buddhism,  and  preach  it  in  New 
York  with  musical  accompaniments.  Mrs.  Bay- 
ard, to  whom  I  spoke  of  my  doubts,  said  I  might 
make  a  very  good  living  by  assisting  as  a  neophyte 
at  her  sister's  seances,  if  I  could  get  myself  to 
believe  in  the  nirvdna  and  metempsychosis." 

"  Stokes,"  returned  Desmond,  "  you're  a  fool. 
You  refuse  to  accept  the  divine  beliefs  of  Christi- 
anity —  I  mean  such  as  your  mutilated  religion 
has  preserved  for  you,  —  and  yet  propose  to 
swallow  the  absurdities  of  an  outworn,  selfish  and 
barbarous  religion." 


368      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICE  DESMOND. 

"  I  am  not  any  more  of  a  fool  than  you  are," 
said  Mr.  Stokes,  in  his  meek  voice,  but  with  a 
certain  decision.  "  Buddhism  attracts  me ;  New 
York  attracts  me ;  I  can  accept  Buddhism  with  as 
much  faith  as  I  have  in  anything,  as  I  am  assured 
that  I  can  earn  a  living  without  those  exertions 
which  my  education  has  made  me  incapable  of. 
I  am  honest  so  far,  I  can  say  honestly,  too,  that  I 
think  I  would  examine  the  doctrines  of  your 
Church — whether  I  should  have  the  courage  to 
accept  them  or  not,  —  had  I  not  watched  you 
closely  of  late." 

"  Me ! "  asked  his  companion,  with  a  start. 
«« And  what  —  " 

"  Yes,  yow,"  said  Mr.  Stokes,  rising,  and  deftly 
lighting  the  kerosene  lamp,  for  the  sunset  had 
disappeared.  "  You  profess  to  believe  everything 
that  the  Bible  teaches  —  you  are  a  more  literal 
believer  in  the  Bible  than  any  Protestant  I 
know,  —  and  you  make  pretentious  of  self-sacri- 
fice and  charity,  and  you  are  supposed  to  live  up 
to  your  belief.  I  know  what  you  believe.  I've 
gotten  beyond  the  old  frauds  about  Popish  igno- 
rance and  that  sort  of  thing.  Now,  I've  watched 
you  and  heard  about  you  of  late  very  much ;  and 
I  see  plainly  that  your  religion,  supposed  to  be 
so  spiritual,  has  very  little  to  do  with  your  daily 
life. 

Patrick's  hands  trembled  as  he  drew  down  the 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      369 

shade.  Was  this  true  ?  Was  he,  who,  above  all, 
prided  himself  on  being  the  staunchest  of  Catho- 
lics, falling  below  himself  ?  Nevertheless,  he  was 
angry  with  Mr.  Stokes,  and  he  did  not  speak. 

"You  live  to  make  money  —  only  to  make 
money,"  —  went  on  Mr.  Stokes.  "  You  dream  of 
making  money ;  you  think  of  making  money.  You 
are  one  man  on  Saturday,  another  on  Sunday. 
You  would  beggar  a  man,  according  to  your  busi- 
ness principles,  on  Saturday,  and  toss  him  a  dollar, 
according  to  your  religious  principles,  on  Sunday. 
You  will  take  something  for  nothing  by  a  busi- 
ness trick,  and  defend  it  on  business  principles. 
Everybody  praises  you  because  you  are  making 
the  most  of  your  talents ;  you  will  grow  rich  on 
business  principles,  which  to  my  mind  are  not 
those  which  your  priest  preaches  and  reads  from 
the  pulpit.  I  watched  you,"  said  Mr.  Stokes, 
with  a  break  in  his  voice,  "  for  a  long  time.  The 
Patrick  Desmond  of  Redwood,  so  upright,  so 
sincere,  so  firmly  practical  in  applying  his  reli- 
gion, almost  made  me  desire  to  be  of  the  faith 
which  had  made  him  such  as  he  was,  and  to  be 
like  him.  I  would  have  braved  public  opinion. 
I  see  now,  by  your  example,  that  dogmas  are 
inadequate  to  influence  men,  when  they  have  so 
failed  in  your  case." 

"  You  do  not  judge  me  fairly,"  said  Desmond, 
in  a  low  voice,  having  lost  all  his  anger.     "  I  act 


370      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

according  to  the  lessons  I  have  been  taught  in 
business ;  I  act  as  other  men  who  desire  to  be 
rich  —  " 

"  I  know  you  do.  But  if  men  who  hold  dearest 
a  religion  with  such  claims  as  yours  act  merely  as 
other  men,  you  cannot  blame  us,  who  are  not  so 
supported,  for  turning  from  it." 

Patrick's  anger  rose  again.  "  I  am  not  my 
brother's  keeper.  Your  convictions  should  not 
hinge  on  my  actions." 

"  No,"  returned  Mr.  Stokes,  wearily ;  "  perhaps 
not.  But  example  in  your  case  has  had  much  to 
do  with  mine.  I  shall  go  to  New  York  and  put 
money  in  my  purse,  as  you  are  doing.  But  don't 
take  such  a  high  ground.  If  you  were  offered  a 
thousand  dollars  for  a  thing  you  knew  was  use- 
less, you  would  sell  it,  and  do  a  good  stroke  of 
business.  Come  —  we  will  not  quarrel ;  here  is 
Bayard." 

The  door  opened  and  Harry  Bayard  entered. 
Mr.    Bayard   looked   close  at   Desmond.     The 
former's  face  was  as  white  as  usual  and  his  eyes 
as  furtive,  but  there  was  the  complacent  expression 
of  prosperity  about  him. 

"May  I  use  your  telephone,  Mr.  Desmond?" 
he  asked.  "  You  are  lucky  enough  to  have  the 
only  one  in  town,  and  I  want  to  speak  to  the 
baggage-master  at  Redwood." 

"  Certainly,"  Desmond  said,  picking  up  a  pamph- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     371 

let  to  avoid  looking  at  Bayard ;  he  had  an  invol- 
untary antipathy  to  the  sight  of  this  pale,  smooth- 
talking,  furtive  creature ;  and,  besides,  like  most 
people  in  Redwood,  he  had  heard  rumors. 

Bayard  telephoned  to  the  baggage-master  a 
message  about  a  piano  which  was  to  go  to  New 
York  as  freight ;  but  he  took  a  long  time  about  At, 
and  there  was  much  ringing  of  bells. 

"  You  may  not  be  youi  brother's  keeper,"  whis- 
pered Mr.  Stokes,  "and  religion  may  not  be  a 
matter  of  example  —  "  he  paused,  for  Bayard's 
hallooing  and  ringing  had  ceased  for  a  moment. 
He  went  on  when  Bayard  had  begun  to  ring 
again,  and  there  was  a  touch  of  bitterness  in  his 
tone,  "  But  I  can  tell  you  that  even  if  Eleanor 
Redwood  was  attracted  by  the  sincerity  of  the 
Desmond  of  the  spring,  she  will  not  admire  the 
clever  business  Desmond  of  the  summer." 

A  glint  of  humor  shone  in  Desmond's  eyes. 
"Oh!  that's  it, — is  it,  Stokes?"  he  said.  "I 
see." 

Mr.  Stokes  smarted  under  the  glance  and 
turned  pale  ;  his  secret  was  revealed.  He  said 
nothing,  but  at  that  moment  he  hated  Desmond. 

"  It  will  be  a  nasty  night,"  said  Bayard,  com- 
ing from  the  telephone  box  and  trying  to  light  his 
cigar  over  the  blackened  glass  of  the  lamp  ;  while 
he  watched  Desmond's  face,  on  which  Mr.  Stokes' 
words  had  left  a  trace  of  dejection.  "  He  has 


372      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DfiSMOND. 

heard  bad  news;"  said  Bayard  to  himself,  "he 
will  sell  as  soon  as  he  can.  I  had  better  hurry  up 
matters.  —  Listen  to  that !  "  he  remarked  aloud. 
The  wind  was  sweeping  around  the  house  like 
some  huge  winged  being  fleeing  from  an  enemy. 
"  Good-night !  "  he  said. 

Mr.  Stokes  said  good-night  too ;  he  thought  he 
would  go  to  the  hotel  before  the  storm  broke. 
Bayard  took  his  arm,  and  they  walked  toward  the 
chain  of  lakes,  the  first  of  which  lashed  the  shore 
furiously. 

"  Come,  take  a  walk,  Stokes,"  Bayard  said ; 
"  this  wind  is  exhilarating,  and  the  rain  will  not 
come  for  some  time." 

Mr.  Stokes'  duster  flapped  and  floated  about 
him,  and  he  had  to  hold  his  hat  on.  The  wind 
was  exhilarating ;  it  seemed  to  blow  his  thoughts 
away. 

"  Desmond  is  in  a  bad  humor  to-night,"  ob- 
served Bayard. 

"  Yes,"  said  Stokes,  on  his  guard. 

"Bad  news;  stocks  and  investments  trouble 
him  since  he  has  got  into  business.  Put  a  beggar 
on  horseback,  you  know  —  "  and  Bayard  laughed 
in  his  high  treble. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Stokes.  "  I  don't  know  any- 
thing about  business." 

They  had  reached  one  of  the  entrances  to  the 
Fly- Away  Mines,  —  one  near  the  lake,  and  sel- 
dom used  except  by  the  inspectors  and  owners. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.       373 

"  There's  nothing  wrong  with  the  mines,"  Bay- 
ard went  on.  "  Does  he  think  there  is  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Mr.  Stokes. 

Bayard  took  a  key  from  his  pocket  and  opened 
the  rickety  wooden  door  of  the  frame  structure, 
that  covered  a  rather  primitive  windlass.  Mr. 
Stokes  followed  him  with  a  certain  curiosity. 

"  Since  Mr.  Desmond  is  anxious  about  the 
mine,  I'd  better  drop  down  to  the  first  gallery 
and  see  that  eveiything  is  right  on  this  side. 
Will  you  manage  the  windlass  ?  " 

Mr.  Stokes  had  no  objections  ;  just  then  he  had 
no  objection  to  anything.  He  took  the  rough 
wooden  handle  in  his  grip.  Bayard  took  a  pick- 
axe and  a  miner's  hat  and  lamp,  and  entered  the 
primitive  cage,  used  only  for  this  short  distance 
trip. 

"  Lower  !  " 

Down  he  went,  the  thick  wire  rope  creaking 
and  Mr.  Stokes'  arms  aching.  Nevertheless,  the 
exercise  did  him  good :  it  eased  his  restlessness ; 
it  would  be  easier  to  draw  Bayard  up,  since  he 
could  help  himself  by  using  another  rope,  hand 
over  hand,  he  reflected. 

Having  reached  the  first  gallery  in  the  new  part 
of  the  mine,  Bayard  sounded  the  black  wall  with 
his  pick.  "  In  three  days  the  lake  will  be  in,"  he 
said ;  "  but  he  may  sell  before  that.  A  few 
strokes,  and,  with  the  help  of  the  storm,  it  will  be 
hi  to-night." 


374      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

One  could  hear  the  lake,  aroused  and  strong, 
palpitating  against  the  wall.  The  rays  from  the 
lamp  in  his  hat  fell  on  the  glossy  black  lumps 
around  him.  He  raised  the  pick  and  tapped 
the  wall.  The  sound  in  one  place  satisfied  him ; 
he  gave  half  a  dozen  strong  strokes  at  the  wall. 
Then  he  pulled  the-  rope ;  the  windlass  creaked, 
and  in  five  minutes  he  stood  beside  Mr.  Stokes. 
He  was  paler  than  usual,  and  sweat  poured  from 
his  forehead. 

"  Everything  is  right,"  he  said.  "  Desmond 
need  have  no  fear.  They  distrusted  my  report 
of  the  first  disaster,  though  I  know  these  mines 
like  a  book  —  better  than  the  owners  do,"  he 
added,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  Go  up  and  con- 
gratulate Desmond." 

"  I  will,"  replied  Stokes,  anxious  to  be  alone 
with  his  thoughts,  "  when  it  stops  raining." 

"  Do,"  Bayard  went  on,  smiling  in  the  darkness. 
"  Tell  him  I  said  that  there's  no  danger ;  or,  better, 
say  you've  been  here  and  seen  that  there's  no  dan- 
ger in  the  mines,  — and  this  one  is  the  weakest." 

"  I  will,"  said  Stokes,  "  after  a  while." 

Bayard  grinning  to  himself  at  this  delicate 
stroke,  said  good-night.  He  would  not  lock  the 
door  :  Mr.  Stokes  might  stay  in  the  shed  as  long 
as  he  liked. 

The  wind  and  the  ram  rushed  together,  like 
opposing  armies  ;  the  uproar  was  deafening.  Mr, 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      375 

Stokes  closed  the  door  after  Bayard  had  gone. 
The  tempest  without  soothed  him  ;  it  was  delight- 
ful to  his  weak  nature  to  know  that  there  was 
such  strength  in  the  world.  He  closed  the  door 
tight,  and  in  his  idleness  let  down  the  cage  into 
the  depths  ;  he  pulled  it  up  easily.  As  he  did  so 
slimy,  soft  bodies  brushed  against  his  knees  and 
dropped  upon  his  feet.  There  seemed  to  be  many 
of  them.  He  lowered  the  lamp.  Rats,  squealing 
with  fright  as  the  light  struck  them,  were  rushing 
against  the  wooden  walls  as  if  for  refuge.  They 
had  come  up  from  the  mine  ;  he  knew  what  that 
meant,  and  listened.  There  was  a  rush  of  waters 
beneath ;  he  could  hear  the  roar.  He  felt  the 
cage  with  his  hand  :  it  was  wet.  He  looked  out 
into  the  night :  all  nature  seemed  in  anarchy. 
Never  mind,  he  would  have  the  satisfaction  of 
telling  Patrick  Desmond  that  his  hopes  were  vain, 
—  that  he  was  a  beggar  again,  no  better  off  in  the 
world's  eyes  than  "  the  fool,"  Stokes. 

He  rushed  through  the  storm  to  Desmond's 
office.  It  was  warm  and  light ;  for  Desmond  had 
built  a  fire  in  the  rusty  grate,  not  caring  to  face 
the  rain  and  wind  outside.  What  a  storm  it  was. 
The  world  seemed  tottering. 

Mr.  Stokes  rushed  into  the  room,  his  linen  coat 
clinging  to  him  and  his  straw  hat  drooping  over 
his  face.  Patrick  lay  on  the  three  chairs,  dozing. 
Mr.  Stokes  touched  his  elbow,  and  he  jumped 


376     THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

to  his  feet.  Then  Stokes,  not  with  eagerness  now, 
but  with  a  certain  regret,  told  him  the  truth. 
Desmond,  in  his  light  coat,  ran  with  the  wind 
to  the  entrance  of  the  mine  near  the  lake.  He 
saw  the  waters  meant  ruin ;  what  could  be  done 
on  such  a  night?  What  could  be  done  at  any- 
time, with  the  lake  galloping  into  the  mines  ? 
He  ran  back  to  his  office,  battling  with  the  wind. 
He  telephoned  to  the  telegraph  office  ;  the  answer 
came  :  all  the  wires  to  New  York  were  down. 

"  I  am  ruined,"  he  said,  grimly,  to  Mr.  Stokes. 
"Eleanor  Redwood  is  no  longer  a  rich  woman. 
The  wires  are  all  down  and  I  cannot  sell  the 
stock.  If  I  could  only  reach  the  Hoffmann 
House,  New  York,  I  need  nob  sell  to  Fitzgerald, 
for  he  is  a  friend ;  there's  a  man  at  the  Hoffmann 
House  who  would  buy  at  once,  if  I  could  reach 
him." 

He  spoke  as  if  to  himself,  and  mumbled  inco- 
herently. He  tried  to  ring  up  the  telephone 
operator  at  Redwood.  Yes ;  all  was  lost.  His 
castles  in  Spain  were  down ;  no  riches,  no  power 
for  him ;  Eleanor  and  he  would  both  be  beggars. 

"  Do  not  sell,"  she  had  wired.  What  differ 
ence  did  that  make  ?  He  must  sell  those  shares 
before  daylight  or  perish. 

The  telephone  bell  sounded.  Mr.  Stokes 
watched  Desmond  with  an  odd  smile  on  his 
wet  face,  as  he  stood  dripping  in  the  middle  of 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      377 

a  pool  of  rain-water.  The  operator  at  Redwood 
announced  that  one  wire  from  that  town  to  New 
York  was  safe.  He  had  a  message  for  Desmond. 
The  broker  at  the  Hoffmann  House  could  sell  the 
shares  at  once,  at  one  per  cent,  increase  on  his 
offer  of  the  morning. 

"  Thank  God  !  "  Desmond  exclaimed. 

Then  like  a  flash  came  the  question  (the  result, 
at  this  crisis  in  his  life,  of  years  of  good  training 
and  pure  thoughts)  :  For  what  was  he  thanking 
God  —  the  God  of  charity  ?  His  conscience  an- 
swered at  once :  He  was  thanking  God  for  a 
victim  whom  he  would  ruin,  to  whom  he  would 
sell  something  for  nothing,  save  himself  from 
poverty,  and  keep  Eleanor  rich  against  her  will. 
His  mother  rose  before  his  mind.  Would  she 
exchange  her  worn  shawl  and  her  poor  little  house 
for  riches  won  in  this  way  ?  Would  she  not  call 
his  thanking  God  a  horrible  blasphemy?  But 
success,  power,  money,  a  great  house,  luxury, 
everything  that  the  men  around  him  valued,  were 
in  his  grasp.  And  would  not  Eleanor  thank  him 
for  it  later  ?  She  was  a  woman,  after  all ;  and 
fond  of  diamonds  and  rich  dresses,  as  all  women, 
except  his  mother,  were. 

"  The  wire  is  waiting.  Will  take  your  mes- 
sage, broker  waiting,"  telephoned  the  operator 
at  Redwood. 

"  O,  Mother  of  God  !  "  Desmond  cried,  between 


378      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

his  teeth.  Perhaps  the  mines  could  be  saved ; 
he  did  not  know  they  were  utterly  ruined,  a  voice 
said.  But  he  flung  it  back ;  he  did  know  that 
they  were  ruined,  for  the  lake  mine  was  the  key  of 
the  rest.  Mr.  Stokes,  forgetting  his  drenched 
condition,  gazed  at  Desmond  with  intense  eyes ;  he 
understood  the  struggle  as  well  as  if  he  saw  it. 

"  No  message  to-night,"  Desmond  said,  grimly  ; 
and  he  rang  the  bell. 

The  bell  was  rung  furiously  from  Redwood 
again.  "Did  you  say  no  message?"  asked  the 
operator. 

"None,"  Patrick  answered,  as  firmly  as  before. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  passed.  Desmond  had 
forgotten  Mr.  Stokes  who  had  sat  down  near  the 
fire.  The  bell  rang  again.  Desmond  answered : 
"  I  told  you  I  had  no  message." 

"  It  wouldn't  make  much  difference  if  you  had 
now ;  "  was  the  reply,  "  the  New  York  wire  is 
down." 

"I  am  glad  of  it,"  said  the  young  man,  half- 
aloud. 

Mr.  Stokes  went  up  and  took  his  right  hand: 
*'  I  take  back  what  I  said.  Your  religion  is  the 
strongest  thing  in  life,  —  stronger  than  life  ;  it 
works  miracles." 

Patrick  was  white,  and  dark  circles  had  come 
beneath  his  eyes.  "  Yes,  I  know,"  he  answered, 
speaking  more  to  himself  than  to  Mr.  Stokes. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      379 

"  But  I  am  a  failure,  all  the  same.  No ; "  he 
added,  with  a  gleam  of  light  in  his  eyes,  "I have 
succeeded,  because  I  am  what  I  wanted  most  of  all 
to  be  —  an  honest  man." 

Mr.  Stokes  stole  away.  And  in  the  morning, 
when  Patrick  awoke,  the  Fly-Away  Mine  stock 
was  a  drug  in  the  market.  But  he  said  his 
prayers  with  a  clean  heart,  and  he  felt  that  no 
glance  of  his  mother  or  of  Eleanor  could  ever 
reproach  him  now  ;  he  could  look  the  world  in  the 
faoe,  even  though  it  might  call  him  -»  failure. 


380      THE  SUCCESS  OP  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

XXIX. 

"  A  ministering  angel  ?  " 

THE  New  York  papers  on  the  morning  after  the 
storm,  were  filled  with  telegrams  from  all  over  the 
country.  Great  had  been  the  damage,  great  was 
the  suffering  brought  about  by  this  war  of  the  ele- 
ments ;  and  Mary  Fitzgerald  felt  almost  ashamed 
of  her  own  grief  over  certain  double-headed  para- 
graphs as  she  read  the  record  of  loss  by  wind  and 
wave.  Eleanor  had  not  come  back  from  early 
Mass.  She  and  Belinda  were  to  be  received  intc 
the  Church  in  a  week's  time.  Belinda  was  clat- 
tering about  in  the  kitchen.  She  couldn't  get  used 
to  going  to  church  on  week  days.  "  It  seems  a 
waste  of  time,"  she  said.  Arthur  gave  Mary  The, 
Sun  from  his  bundle  of  papers,  and  there  she  read 
of  the  disaster  to  the  Fly- A  way  Mines, 

"Poor  Miles!  Poor  Eleanor!"  she  said.  "O, 
Arthur,  Miles  is  ruined !  " 

"  Miles  ?  "  repeated  Arthur.  "  Oh  !  is  he  ?  I  be- 
lieve I  did  hear  that  he  had  shares  in  that  con- 
founded swindle,  —  mines  so  near  a  lot  of  lakes 
are  nothing  but  a  swindle.  Mary,"  he  added, 
changing  his  tone,  "  If  Patrick  Desmond  had  sold 
me  all  the  shares  I  wanted,  I  should  be  a  beggar 
this  morning." 

Mary  looked    at   him  with   tears  in   her  eyes. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      381 

"But  Miles  is  worse  than  a  beggar:  he  owes 
everybody.  We  could  endure  being  poor,"  she 
said,  "  we  have  so  much  to  make  us  happy.  But 
poor  Miles ! " 

Arthur  jingled  his  spoon  on  his  saucer  impa- 
tiently. He  was,  as  a  rule,  silent  when  Mary  la- 
mented over  Miles. 

"  I  don't  know  what  will  become  of  him  now. 
He  has  been  accustomed  to  money,  too ;  poverty 
is  always  harder  on  people  of  that  sort.  What  can 
he  do?" 

"  Go  to  Canada,  I  suppose.  He  will,  at  least, 
be  out  of  the  way  and  out  of  politics,"  murmured 
A  rthur.  "  It  is  strange,  Mary,  that  you  have  no 
word  of  gratitude  for  my  —  for  our  escape  ;  for  it 
is  clear  from  the  telegrams  that  the  disaster  is 
irretrievable.  And  think  of  poor  Miss  Redwood 
and  Desmond." 

"  It  is  sad,"  answered  Mary ;  "  and  I  am  glad, 
too,  Arthur,  on  our  account.  But  Mr.  Desmond 
and  Eleanor  are  young  and  hopeful;  they  have 
not  been  taken  care  of  all  their  lives  as  Miles  has. 
He,"  she  went  on,  seeing  a  frown  on  her  husband's 
brow,  "  has  a  peculiar  temperament ;  he  always  had 
from  his  boyhood." 

Arthur  hid  his  face  in  a  huge  mustache  cup,  in 
which  his  coffee  was  generally  served. 

"  I  must  go  to  see  him  immediately  after  break- 
fast. I  hope  you  will  come  with  me ;  it  might 


382      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

encourage  Miles,  and  we  might  think  of  some  way 
to  help  him. 

"  No,"  replied  Arthur,  briefly,  putting  down  his 
cup. 

Mary  looked  at  him  in  amazement ;  he  was  not 
in  the  habit  of  saying  "  No  "  to  her  in  that  tone. 

"  And  we  can  cable  to  the  Longworthys.  They 
are  in  Munich." 

"  No,"  repeated  Arthur.  "  I  shall  wash  my 
hands  of  Miles,  Mary.  Let  him  live  his  own  life." 

Mary  turned  her  face  from  her  husband  and 
rested  her  head  on  her  hand.  It  was  a  very 
pathetic  action,  habitual  to  her  in  moments  of 
keen  distress.  It  went  to  Arthur's  heart,  but  he 
was  silent ;  he  could  not  forgive  at  once  Mary's 
lack  of  sympathy  with  him  in  his  joy  at  having 
escaped  from  ruin. 

"  If  I  could  help  Desmond,  I  would  —  and  I 
will,"  he  went  on,  with  some  bitterness  in  his 
tone.  "He  has  worked  hard  and  faithfully." 

Mary  tried  to  restrain  her  tears.  "  If  you  had 
brothers  and  sisters,  Arthur,"  she  said,  "you 
would  understand  what  I  mean  — how  I  feel.  I 
rejoice  with  you,  of  course ;  but  it  breaks  my 
heart  to  think  of  poor  Miles,  after  all  his  strug- 
gles. And  dear  little  Miley." 

"And  poor  Nellie,"  added  Arthur  with  a 
touch  of  malice. 

"  Nellie  has  been  used  to  the  hardships  of  life  ; 
she  has  not  Miles'  temperament." 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     383 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Arthur,  rising  from  the  table,  "  I 
must  go." 

And  off  he  went,  leaving  Mary  divided  between 
regret  that  she  had  not  said  good-by  more  affec- 
tionately, and  grief  over  the  misfortunes  of  her 
brother.  Arthur  Fitzgerald  was  a  dissatisfied  man 
during  that  day,  although  his  friends  congratulated 
him  on  his  "  level-headedness  "  in  keeping  clear 
of  the  Fly- A  way  stock  ;  and  said  pleasant  things 
about  his  being  a  young  Hannibal  of  finance. 

As  for  Mary,  she  cried  and  waited  for  Eleanor. 
When  Eleanor  came,  rosy  from  her  walk,  and  more 
cheerful  than  she  had  been  for  many  days,  Mary 
broke  the  news  to  her. 

"  It's  too  bad !  Oh !  it  reconciles  me  to  dear 
papa's  death  to  know  that  this  did  not  happen 
before,"  she  said,  looking  brightly  into  Mary's 
face.  "  As  for  me,  I  have  enough  for  the  present, 
though  you  —  you  wicked  woman,  —  have  de- 
stroyed all  my  hopes  of  earning  anything  by  my 
art." 

Maiy  was  astonished  at  this  coolness.  If  dear 
Miles  could  only  feel  the  same  way.  "  And  Mr. 
Desmond,"  she  said,  with  a  little  hesitation. 

"  He  will  not  like  it,  he  has  worked  so  hard.  I 
suppose  he  will  come  to  talk  it  over.  I  have  had 
a  talk  with  Father  Jackson  this  morning,  and 
made  a  resolution ;  or  rather,  a  resolution  came  to 
me,"  she  went  on.  "  But  I'll  not  speak  of  it 
now  —  something  is  worrying  you,  dear." 


384      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"Yes,"  Mary  said,  giving  Eleanor  her  coffee. 
"  I  am  Miles'  only  friend  —  all  he  has  in  the 
world." 

"  There  is  —  his  wife,"  suggested  Eleanor. 

"His  wife !  "  said  Mary,  with  more  scorn  than 
one  would  have  thought  her  gentle  nature  capable 
of.  "  His  wife !  What  does  she  know  about  the 
peculiarities  of  his  nature?  How  can  she  under- 
stand him  ?  Why,  Eleanor  Redwood,  I  brought 
him  up  —  he  was  my  mother's  legacy  to  me.  She 
let  him  go  into  this  foolish  mining  business  —  " 

"And  you  would  have  'let'  Arthur  do  it," 
observed  Eleanor,  gravely  and  directly. 

"  Oh !  Arthur  is  able  to  take  care  of  himself," 
said  Mary ;  "  Miles  never  was.  I  am  his  only 
friend.  I  must  see  him  this  morning.  Will  you 
come  ?  " 

"  With  pleasure,"  Eleanor  answered.  "  But 
wait  till  I  put  on  an  older  dress.  It's  raining ; 
and  now  that  I  am  poor  again,  I  can't  wear  my 
clothes  so  extravagantly." 

During  the  interval  Mary  forgot  Miles  and 
wondered  at  Eleanor's  coolness  ;  for  she  had  read 
to  her  friend  every  detail  about  the  flooding  of 
the  mines,  and  Eleanor  had  not  exclaimed  against 
her  misfortune.  "  I  never  cared  much  for  money, 
and  I  don't  care  for  it  at  all  since  papa  died,"  she 
said.  And  yet,  in  Mary's  thoughts,  this  disaster 
meant  a  fearful  loss  for  Eleanor.  Patrick  Des- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      385 

mond  could  not  marry  her  now ;  he  was  too  poor, 
and  she  must  earn  her  own  living  by  some  every- 
day drudgery.  "  School-teaching,  perhaps,"  Mary 
said  to  herself,  and  shuddered  at  the  thought  of 
her  own  long  days  behind  the  desk. 

The  Galligan  flat,  in  the  Grand  Windsor,  was 
in  disorder.  Nellie  sat  at  the  breakfast  table, 
with  a  Herald  in  her  hand.  Little  Miley  was  in 
his  high  chair,  solemnly  painting  his  face  with 
maple  syrup.  Miles  lay  on  the  lounge  ;  his  face 
was  flushed  with  that  perennial  flush  which  ought 
to  warn  the  hard  drinker  that  he  had  better  stop 
or  die.  He  lay  on  a  pile  of  the  morning  papers, 
and  two  telegrams  had  fallen  from  his  hands  and 
were  on  the  floor. 

"  It's  all  up,  Nell,"  he  began.  "  Bayard's 
message  says  so,  and  Desmond  says  so,  too.  I 
ain't  worth  a  cent,  and  I  can  never  pay  what  I 
borrowed." 

We  have  got  to  pay  our  debts,  Miles,  no  matter 
what  happens,"  answered  Nellie.  Nellie  had  red 
eyes  ;  her  bang  stood  out  like  bristles,  partly  put 
up  in  papers,  when  the  awful  news  had  interrupted 
her  toilet.  Her  tea-gown  of  pink  and  green  sug- 
gested misfortunes  by  the  number  of  spots  scat- 
tered over  it,  and  the  pieces  of  cheap  lace  which 
little  Miley  had  torn,  and  which  draped  the  front 
of  it. 

"  Pay ! "    broke    out    Miles,     with     irritation. 


386      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  Pay !  I  can  never  pay ;  and  in  that  I'll  be  no 
worse  off  than  a  lot  of  my  friends,  who  are  living 
on  the  interest  of  their  debts.  If  I  catch  hold  of 
that  Desmond,  I'll  —  " 

"  No  ;  you  won't !  "  said  Nellie,  firmly,  giving 
Miley  another  hot  cake.  "  You'll  let  my  cousin 
alone  ;  he's  an  honest  man,  like  all  his  family. 
You  ought  to  go  gunning  for  Bayard,  if  you  are 
mad  at  anybody.  I  never  liked  him.  Did  you 
hear  him  try  to  sing  with  me  the  night  he  came 
here  with  the  Baroness?  He  sing!"  said  the 
pupil  of  Prof.  Fortescue,  with  indignation.  "  If 
I  had  my  way,  there  would  be  singing  in  his 
house  and  he  wouldn't  hear  it.  And  the  Baron- 
ess—  I  always  had  my  opinion  of  her.  But  I 
made  up  my  mind  she  wasn't  respectable  when 
she  tried  to  make  me  pay  ten  dollars  for  a  course 
of  her  lectures  on  Buddha  or  some  heathen.  I 
can  stand  powder  and  paint  and  airs,"  said  Nellie, 
virtuously,  "  but  I  can't  stand  irreligion,  —  I 
can't,  Miles,  and  nobody  need  ask  me  to." 

"  It  was  your  being  so  thick  with  the  Baroness 
that  got  me  in  with  Bayard,"  observed  Miles. 
"  I'm  done  for,  that's  all !  I  might  give  two  pic- 
nics a  year,  as  I  promised  to  the  crowd  that  I 
would ;  but  my  name  would  be  Dennis,  all  the 
same.  Coming  up  here  to  live  for  your  health  and 
some  other  little  things  have  made  me  unpopular 
with  the  voters;  but,  since  I've  touched  their 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     387 

money,  they  won't  touch  me.  I've  been  too  good- 
natured, —  that's  my  misfortune.  I've  neither 
money  nor  credit  now  ;  and  the  landlord  can  seize 
everything  we  have,  if  he  wants  to.  I  got  him 
to  go  into  Fly-Away,  too." 

Nellie  looked  around  her  with  some  regret,  and 
then  out  of  the  window.  The  sight  of  roofs 
glistening  with  rain,  and  of  the  distant  spires, 
stimulated  her.  After  all,  it  was  a  great  thing  to 
be  alive  in  New  York,  she  thought,  even  if  the 
landlord  did  seize  her  red  plush  hangings  and  the 
piano.  He  would  have  to  settle  with  the  instal- 
ment man,  at  any  rate ;  this  gave  her  some  com- 
fort. Poverty  had  no  terrors  for  Nellie;  it  had 
too  many  ameliorations  in  her  eyes  to  be  horrible. 
Besides,  she  had  been  thinking  a  great  deal  of 
life,  and  she  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  red 
plush  and  all  her  imitations  of  elegance  did  not 
compensate  for  the  gradual  brutalizing  of  Miles. 
She  did  not  expect  much  of  Miles;  she  had  no 
ideals  for  him  or  for  herself  beyond  display, 
diamonds,  and  a  rather  low  standard  of  respect- 
ability. She  did  not  expect  him  to  keep  sober 
always,  but  she  was  resolved  that  he  should  not 
drink  himself  to  death ;  she  knew  that  nothing 
would  keep  him  from  this  finality  except  want  of 
money  and  separation  from  his  companions. 

"  Will  Long  worthy  help  us  ?  "  asked  Miles, 
rereading  the  telegrams. 


388      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"You  know  he  won't!"  snapped  Nellie. 
"  That  viper  of  an  Esther  won't  let  him." 

"  That  girl  hated  me  from  the  moment  I  was 
born,"  remarked  Miles  pathetically.  "  Arthur 
Fitzgerald  may  do  something." 

Nellie's  brow  darkened.  "  What  do  you  want, 
Miley  ?  "  she  asked,  turning  her  attention  to  that 
precious  child,  who  was  stretching  toward  the  hot 
cakes  again. 

Miley  screwed  up  his  lips,  and  then  spoke  one 
of  the  few  words  he  had  been  laboriously  taught. 
"  Boodle,"  he  said,  quite  distinctly. 

Miles  threw  himself  back  and  laughed  uproari- 
ously. Nellie  joined  him.  "  It's  the  cutest  thing 
out !  "  she  said,  delighted. 

"  I'd  give  a  case  of  champagne  to  have  some  of 
the  crowd  hear  him  say  that,  —  but  there'll  be  no 
boodle  for  your  poor  daddy  from  this  out,"  said 
Miles,  sadly.  "Nell,  you  must  send  for  some 
whiskey." 

Nellie  did  not  answer.  Miles  watched  her  from 
under  his  eyelashes.  When  sober,  he  had  been  a 
little  afraid  of  Nellie,  of  late. 

The  servant  called  from  the  kitchen :  "  There 
are  two  ladies  at  the  speaking-tube  —  Mrs.  Fitz- 
gerald and  Miss  Redwood,  —  wanting  to  come 
up." 

"  Let  'em  come,"  answered  Nellie. 

"Let  them  come  into  the  midst  of  our  poverty 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     389 

and  sorrow,"  said  Miles.  "  There's  no  knowing 
but  that  Mary  has  some  information  saying  things 
are  not  so  bad  as  they  seem.  Mary  has  never 
been  so  hard  on  ma  as  the  other  one  —  " 

"  She  has  only  slighted  your  wife  whenever  she 
could,"  interrupted  Nellie,  with  a  resolved  look. 

Mary  and  Eleanor  entered  the  dining-room. 
Little  Miley  held  out  his  hands  to  his  aunt ; 
and  his  mother  took  occasion  to  slap  them,  on  the 
pretence  that  they  were  sticky.  Miles  did  not 
move  from  the  lounge.  Eleanor  stood  near  the 
door,  wishing  she  had  not  come.  Mary  threw  her 
arms  about  Miles'  neck,  kneeling  beside  him. 

"  O  Miles,"  she  said,  "  are  you  well  ?  Can  you 
bear  it  ?  " 

Miles  took  the  precaution  to  cover  his  mouth 
with  his  hand,  and  murmured  something  to  the 
effect  that  he  still  lived.  Nellie  administered 
another  slap  to  the  unoffending  Miley,  and  asked 
Eleanor  to  sit  down  ;  she  had  a  great  respect  for 
Eleanor. 

"  What  are  you  and  your  husband  going  to 
do  for  us  in  our  trouble  ?  "  Nellie  asked,  coolly, 
turning  to  Mary. 

Mary  rose  and  looked  at  her  helplessly.  Nellie 
repeated  the  question.  It  sounded  brutal  to 
Eleanor,  who  saw  her  friend's  face  grow  pale^  and 
paler. 

"  Arthur  —  "   began   Mary  ;   she  stopped  and 


390      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

began  again,  "  I  am  afraid  —  oh !  I  hope  Miles  is 
not  ruined." 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Nellie,  motioning  her  sister-in- 
law  to  a  chair.  Mary  obeyed,  sick  at  heart. 
What  could  she  do  for  them,  unless  Arthur  re- 
lented? Nellie  stood  at  the  head  of  the  table, 
and,  in  spite  of  her  frizzled  hair  and  her  tawdry- 
gown,  the  dignity  of  her  manner  impressed  Elea- 
nor ;  for  there  was  much  that  was  impressive 
about  Nellie  when  she  succeeded  in  losing  her 
self-consciousness.  "  Ruined  !  "  she  repeated. 
"  No,  he  is  not  quite  ruined,  but  almost  —  thanks 
to  you." 

Eleanor  started  up  to  protest  in  behalf  of  her 
friend,  but  Nellie  would  not  listen. 

"  You  pampered  him  ;  you  made  a  fool  of  him ; 
you  babied  him  ;  and  then  you  are  down  on  me  be- 
cause I  can't  undo  all 'the  mischief  you've  made 
since  he  was  a  boy.  I'd  rather  see  my  little  Miles 
dead,  Mary  Fitzgerald,  than  brought  up  the  way 
Miles  was  brought  up.  You  and  your  mother  —  " 

Mary  raised  her  hands  imploringly. 

"  You  and  your  mother  made  him  what  he 
is  —  a  selfish  drunkard." 

Miles  started  up.  "  I  won't  stand  this,  Nell !  " 
he  said.  But  she  looked  at  him  with  fire  in  her 
eye.  Well  had  her  old  friends  of  the  Lady  Rose- 
buds often  said  that  Nellie  Mulligan  was  afraid  of 
no  man.  Miles  subsided  to  his  lounge  again. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      391 

"  A  selfish  drunkard  !  I  repeat  it,  Mary.  You 
are  not  bound  to  live  with  him,  but  I  am.  You 
could  spoil  him  as  much  as  you  wanted  to  — 
doing  the  devoted  sister  act,  of  course,  —  and  I've 
got  to  take  the  consequences,  and  the  world  has 
got  to  take  the  consequences.  Maybe  you  fancied 
that  I  never  thought  of  all  this,  but  I  have.  And 
if  I  had  had  your  education  and  a  real  home,  I'd 
have  thought  it  out  long  ago  and  been  a  different 
girl.  Oh !  I  know  that  you  look  down  on  me. 
But  Miles,  bad  as  he  is,  is  mine  anyhow,  and  you 
can't  take  him  away." 

Nellie  paused  and  began  to  cry.  Little  Miley, 
believing  that  there  was  an  intention  to  tear  him 
from  the  bosom  of  the  family,  shook  his  spoon  at 
his  aunt.  Absurd  as  it  may  seem,  this  bit  of 
pantomime  was  an  additional  sting  to  Nellie's 
words ;  for,  in  her  heart,  Mary  had  felt  a  special 
proprietorship  in  her  brother's  child,  and  had 
believed  in  her  heart  that  little  Miley  would  have 
been  an  angel  were  it  not  for  his  mother. 

"  I  am  his  only  friend,"  sobbed  Nellie.  "  You 
gave  him  money  to  drink  and  kept  him  in  idle- 
ness until  he  was  no  good,  and  then  I  had  to  take 
him  —  and,  what's  more,  I'll  keep  him,"  she 
added,  fiercel}-.  "  And  I'll  try  a  new  way  with 
him." 

Miles  groaned  ;  the  prospect  was  bad.  But  he 
admired  Nellie's  cleverness  ;  Mary  always  was  too 
much  of  an  old  maid,  he  said  to  himself. 


392      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  I  suppose  I  have  to  go  back  to  the  glove 
counter  to  support  the  man  that  you  taught  not  to 
work  for  himself.  But  I  don't  care ;  it's  better 
than  living  in  a  way  you  can't  afford.  Or,  if 
Lacy  won't  have  me,  I  may  sing,"  added  Nellie, 
regaining  her  complacency.  "  Prof.  Fortescue 
says  that  they  are  worse  voices  than  mine." 

Miles  groaned  again.  Mary  did  not  move. 
Were  these  terrible  words  true  ?  Had  she  helped 
to  ruin  her  brother's  character  and  life  ?  She 
could  not  say.  She  had  meant  to  be  true  to  her 
dead  mother,  and  Miles  was  the  only  boy.  No 
one  spoke  for  a  time.  Miles  was  reflecting  on  the 
chances  of  Mary's  going  out  for  whiskey  if  he 
fainted,  when  Nellie  spoke  again  : 

"  I  shall  manage  Miles  in  my  own  way.  I 
don't  expect  to  make  much  out  of  him,  but  I  am 
not  going  to  have  him  drag  little  Miley  and  me 
into  the  dirt.  He'll  work  or  starve,  —  he'll  work 
or  starve  ;  and  he'll  work  at  something  honest. 
I've  seen  fashionable  life,  —  I've  met  some  of  the 
Four  Hundred,  and  I  don't  like  them.  The  Lady 
Rosebuds  are  a  great  deal  better,  only  they 
haven't  got  the  style.  I'm  going  to  have  my  own 
way  in  future,  Miles  Galligan,  as  I  did  before  I 
was  married." 

"  Take  care,  Nell !  "spoke  up  Miles,  with  a  weak 
effort  to  assert  himself. 

"  Take    care !  "    repeated    Nellie,    scornfully. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.        393 

"  You  take  care,  01  there  will  be  singing  in  this 
house  and  you  won't  hear  it." 

Miles  sank  back  on  the  lounge  again. 

"  And  now,  Miss  Redwood,"  said  Nellie,  turn- 
ing to  Eleanor,  "  I  want  to  ask  your  opinion." 

"  Why  not  go  to  the  country  ? "  asked  the 
young  girl,  eagerly.  "  Take  your  husband  and 
the  little  boy  to  a  place  in  the  country.  I  am 
sure  I  could  get  you  a  nice  house  at  Redwood,  and 
your  husband  would  be  away  from  temptation  — " 

"  My  husband  is  no  worse  than  other  men," 
said  Nellie,  shortly.  "  Do  I  look  like  a  girl  that 
could  bury  herself  in  the  country?  No  :  give  me 
New  York,  if  I  am  poor.  I  didn't  intend  to  ask 
your  opinion  about  the  country;  but  I've  always 
heard  that  you  had  common-sense.  Who  ought  a 
man  to  stick  to  —  his  wife  or  his  sister  ?  Who  is 
his  best  friend  ?  " 

"  His  wife,"  said  Eleanor,  with  a  pitying  glance 
at  Mary's  white  face. 

"  Well,  Miles,  what  do  you  say  ?  " 

"  I'm  with  you,  Nell,"  Miles  answered.  «'  You're 
right  about  Mary.  If  she  had  kept  a  curb  on  me, 
and  not  pretended  to  believe  my  lies  —  some  of 
'em  were  whoppers  !  —  when  I  wanted  money,  I'd 
not  be  in  this  fix  to-day." 

"Now!"  said  Nellie,  looking  at  Mary  with 
sparkling  eyes. 

Mary  rose,  kissed  little  Miles  on  the  forehead, 


394      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

and  went  out,  without  looking  at  her  brother. 
Had  she  deserved  this  ?  Her  heart  was  very  sore. 
After  all  the  patient  watching,  all  the  sacrifices, 
all  the  love,  it  had  come  to  this.  She  went  back, 
past  Eleanor  who  was  at  the  door,  and  put  her 
hand  on  the  child's  head ;  she  looked  at  Nellie 
appealingly,  and  said  in  a  low  voice  : 

"  If  this  little  child  ever  needs  —  " 

"  A  mother?  "  said  Nellie,  mockingly.  "  He'll 
have  one  as  long  as  I  live,  and  I'm  not  of  the 
dying  kind.  I'd  rather  have  him  go  to  an  asylum 
than  have  your  kind  of  bringing  up." 

When  the  two  women  reached  the  vestibule, 
Mary  turned  her  tear-filled  eyes  to  Eleanor.  "  Was 
she  right  ?  " 

Eleanor  hesitated.  "  I  don't  exactly  know ;  " 
and  then,  with  more  courage,  "  but  I  am  afraid  it 
sounded  as  if  she  was." 

Mary  was  silent ;  she  had  learned  her  lesson 
at  last. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATEICK  DESMOND.      395 


XXX. 

Not  fear 

Can  bow  when  all  looks  drear, 
Nor  hope —  when  skies  are  clear  — 

Can  buoy 

The  heart  that  reigns  sedate. 
Only  to  trust  and  wait, 
Through  early  days  and  late.  .  .  . 

—  R.  Howley. 

ELEANOR  glided,  as  it  were,  into  the  Church. 
She  found  herself  one  day,  with  the  rosary  in 
her  hand,  before  the  altar  of  the  Blessed  Virgin, 
and  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  the  prayers  she  said  had 
been  breathed  to  her  in  some  long-forgotten  time. 
The  "  Hail  Mary  "  was  not  new  to  her,  though 
she  had  never  said  it  before  in  her  life.  For  the 
last  week  before  her  conditional  baptism,  she  had 
been  much  with  Sister  Raphael,  who  managed  the 
girls'  school  in  the  parish ;  and,  under  her  guid- 
ance, Eleanor  serenely  drew  near  her  "home,"  as 
she  called  it.  Besides,  she  had  a  glimpse  into  the 
inner  life  of  some  of  those  people  whom  she  had 
pitied  so  greatly  on  the  night  of  her  visit  to 
Father  Jackson's  clients.  At  first  it  had  seemed 
to  her  that  the  Sisters  were  not  doing  enough ; 
and  so  fervent  was  her  interest  that,  during  the 
week  after  she  had  been  received  into  the  Church, 
she  spent  nearly  all  her  time  with  the  Sisters  in 
their  school.  She  was  sure  that  she  could  teach 


396      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

little  children,  even  if  she  could  not  paint  good 
pictures. 

"And  I  think,"  said  Sister  Raphael  smiling, 
"  that  St.  Charles  Borromeo,  when  he  began  his 
Sunday-school,  did  a  greater  work  in  the  world 
than  Raphael,  —  not  my  Raphael  the  angel,  but 
Raphael  the  artist." 

This  rather  shocked  Eleanor  at  first,  but  after  a 
time  she  saw  what  the  Sister  meant. 

Belinda  took  her  conversion  with  great  tearing 
up  of  the  soul ;  she  was  inclined  to  be  rigorous, 
and  her  general  confession  produced  an  agony 
of  mind  which  frightened  Eleanor.  This  once 
over,  Belinda  found,  as  she  said,  that  her  new 
"religion  fitted  her  like  a  glove."  She  longed  for 
controversial  contests,  and  hoped  daily  that  'she 
might  meet  Mr.  Stokes  or  Mrs.  Howard  Sykes  in 
a  New  York  street,  and  give  him  or  her  battle. 
She  never  quite  got  over  her  distrust  for  the 
Sisters.  Maria  Monk's  revelations,  which  she  had 
read  in  early  youth,  clung  to  her  mind,  and  she 
shook  her  head  sadly  when  Eleanor  talked  of  the 
admirable  work  of  the  Sisters. 

"  There  are  some  things  I  can't  understand  in 
the  Church,  and  I  suppose  I  never  shall ;  and 
these  are  why  she  approves  of  nuns,  and  why  she 
lets  her  priests  go  about  with  holes  in  their  hand- 
kerchiefs, like  that  poor  Father  Jackson,"  she 
said,  in  moments  of  confidence.  She  had  not 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      397 

made  up  her  mind  as  to  her  future  yet,  although 
the  people  in  Mary  Fitzgerald's  kitchen  wished 
she  would ;  for  the  traditional  Redwood  ways 
of  housekeeping  were  not  theirs. 

The  Judge's  death  had  changed  Eleanor,  not 
outwardly,  but  in  heart  and  mind.  She  often 
wondered  that  she  could  smile  at  all,  and  yet 
many  things  gave  her  pleasure.  But  she  never 
forgot  her  sorrow  for  an  hour ;  still  her  feeling 
could  hardly  be  called  sorrow.  There  seemed  to 
be  a  wound  in  her  heart,  which  ached  at  times 
with  a  dull,  physical  aching.  She  would  not  have 
brought  her  father  back  again  if  she  could ;  but  if 
she  could  only  see  him,  only  look  into  his  eyes  for 
a  moment,  the  pain,  she  thought,  would  grow  less. 
There  is  some  special  link  that  binds  father  and 
daughter  together ;  and  Eleanor  had  been  so  near 
her  father  always,  that  in  her  case  the  bond  was 
even  closer.  She  felt  that  she  had  much  to 
regret ;  she  felt  that  she  had  taken  his  love  too 
much  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  had  not  been 
grateful  enough  for  it.  But  she  could  make  up 
for  it  now :  she  could  stretch  her  hands  out  to 
him  ;  she  could  pray  for  him  ;  she  could  clasp  on 
this  side  "  the  golden  chain  which  binds  the 
whole  round  world  about  the  feet  of  God."  Her 
grief  did  not  paralyze  her :  it  gave  her  new  motive 
for  good  works  ;  since  each,  offered  to  God,  could 
help  the  soul  of  the  departed. 


398      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

Mary  was  not  at  all  jealous  of  Eleanor's  atten- 
tion to  Sister  Raphael ;  she  was  glad  to  be  left 
alone  for  a  time,  for  the  last  interview  with  Miles 
and  Nellie  had  cut  her  to  the  heart.  She  had 
passed  out  of  Miles'  life ;  he  was  done  with  her. 
Nellie  would  have  it  so,  and  she  had  a  right  to 
make  it  so.  Mary  bore  her  punishment  in  silence 
and  without  an  appeal  for  sympathy.  She  knew 
what  Esther  would  say  ;  she  knew  what  to  expect 
from  Arthur ;  and  Father  Jackson  was  sternly 
practical.  It  was  his  opinion  that  the  Galligans 
could  and  would  take  care  of  themselves,  if  they 
were  let  alone.  About  Eleanor's  opinion  she 
could  conjecture  from  the  few  words  she  had 
dropped  after  the  interview.  Suddenly  Mary 
awakened  to  the  truth  that  she  was  sacrificing 
her  happiness  to  the  caprices  of  a  thoroughly  self- 
ish man,  —  a  man  whom  she  had  helped  to  make 
selfish.  This  latter  revelation  shocked  her.  She 
flew  to  the  Jesuits  at  St.  Francis',  and  sought  out 
a  priest  who  had  often  helped  her.  She  told  her 
trouble  to  him  in  the  parlor.  How  could  she 
make  reparation  for  the  harm  she  had  done?  A 
twinkle  came  into  the  old  priest's  eyes ;  he  knew 
the  family  history. 

"  I  know  that  the  dear  boy's  faults  have  been 
brought  about  in  some  measure  by  my  injudicious 
kindness.  How  can  I  repair  the  evil,  Father  ?  " 

"  By  letting  him  alone,"  the  priest  answered ; 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      399 

"and  by  giving  your  whole  thoughts  to  your 
husband,  and  not  letting  him  have  only  one-fourth 
of  them." 

Mary  felt  that  she  did  not  deserve  this.  "  By 
letting  him  alone  !  "  she  said  in  horror. 

"  Yes  ;  my  child.  You  have  chosen  your  path ; 
he  has  his." 

Maiy  felt  that  her  punishment  was  very  hard 
but  she  resolved  to  bear  it.  And  later,  when  she 
had  boys  of  her  own,  she  wisely  applied  the  les- 
son she  had  learned  to  them.  It  was  the  best 
way,  Arthur  said,  of  making  reparation  to  the 
human  race  for  the  existence  of  Miles,  —  but  he 
did  not  say  this  aloud. 

Sister  Raphael  was  not  only  practical,  but  very 
spiritual-minded.  It  was  this  union  of  qualities 
that  fascinated  Eleanor ;  she  had  never  met  any- 
thing like  it  in  her  experience.  It  was  a  revela- 
tion to  her  to  hear  the  Sister  explain  the  meaning 
of  the  word  "  vocation." 

"It  is  more  beautiful  than  anything  Emerson 
has  said  ! "  exclaimed  Eleanor.  "  And  have  I, 
too,  a  vocation?  Do  you  know,  Sister,  that  I 
always  looked  on  work  as  work  to  be  done  be- 
cause it  had  to  be  done?  But  you  glorify  it. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  my  vocation  was  simply  to 
be  Eleanor  Redwood.  I  never  thought  of  living 
for  the  greater  glory  of  God.  Your  talk  is  very 
serious,  very  consoling;  to  think  as  you  think 
puts  sunshine  into  the  darkest  days." 


400      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

The  Sister,  who  was  walking  up  and  down  the 
long  corridor  of  the  school  with  Eleanor,  during  a 
a  short  recreation,  smiled. 

"  You  are  growing  more  and  more  of  a  Catholic 
every  day.  It  is  a  matter  of  evolution,  though 
some  converts  seem  to  think  they  must  find  out 
all  the  beauty  and  strength  and  consolation  of  the 
Church  at  the  outset.  You  are  discovering  new 
flowers  every  day/' 

Eleanor  did  not  answer  at  once.  "Of  late," 
she  said,  "  I  have  regretted  the  loss  of  fortune 
almost  with  passion,  —  only  of  late,  —  since  I 
have  understood  how  far  John  Longworthy's 
book  falls  short  of  showing  how  miserable  the  poor 
people  in  your  tenement-houses  are." 

"All  tenement-houses  are  not  like  those  you 
have  seen,"  remarked  the  Sister,  pleased  with  the 
earnest  look  in  Eleanor's  eyes.  "  But  some  of  them 
are  blots  on  the  civilization  of  the  most  civilized 
city  in  this  land.  You  have  lately  helped  us  to 
teach  the  little  children  who  come  here ;  you  have 
lived  among  them ;  you  see  how  wretched  some 
of  them  are;  how  neglected  by  beer-drinking 
mothers,  how  familiar  with  the  worst  side  of  life. 
Lilies,  by  a  miracle,  many  of  them  are ;  but  how 
terrible  the  condition  of  others." 

"  It  is  now,"  said  Eleanor  passionately,  "  that  I 
long  to  be  rich." 

The  Sister  looked  at  her  gravely,  and  paused 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      401 

to  pluck  a  dead  leaf  from  the  pot  of  geranium 
that  stood  before  the  statue  of  Our  Lady  of 
Victory,  at  the  end  of  the  corridor. 
"  Oh !  yes,  Sister,  I  long  to  be  rich." 
"  Do  you  think  that  money  would  make  a  man 
as  devoted  as  Father  Jackson,  or  pay  women  to 
do  the  work  our  Sisters  do  ?  Or  that  money  will 
change  the  slipshod,  drinking  and  gossiping  woman 
into  a  careful  housewife,  making  the  most  of  what 
she  has,  and  careful  of  the  example  she  gives  her 
children?  Suppose  you  gave  this  woman  a  fine 
house  and  handsome  appointments,  do  you  think 
they  would  make  her  different?  We  must  begin, 
my  dear,  with  the  children.  But  so  long  as  the 
children  remain  with  the  parents  in  some  of  these 
slums,  our  progress  is  slow.  We  begin  with  the 
children,  and  sometimes  the  children  change  the 
parents.  Money  is  useful,  —  it  would  be  useful 
if  there  were  enough  of  it  to  make  some  of  these 
tenement  houses  habitable,  and  to  keep  outcasts 
of  society  —  Chinese  pagans  and  criminals  —  from 
mingling  in  daily  intercourse  with  the  virtuous 
and  self-respecting.  Money  is  not  what  we  need 
most ;  we  can  give  more  than  that  to  the  service 
of  God,  as  St.  Francis  of  Assist  did :  we  can  give 
ourselves.  Could  St.  Francis  have  done  what  he 
did  with  money  ?  " 

The  young  girl  felt  for  a  moment  that  she  was 
an  outsider.  Who  was  this  St.  Francis,  of  whom 
the  Sister  spoke  as  of  a  cherished  friend  ? 


402      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  I  don't  know  what  St.  Francis  did,"  Eleanor 
said.  "  I  wish  I  knew  about  him.  But  I  think 
I  understand  what  you  mean.  It  is  noble !  " 

To  know  more  about  this  St.  Francis  became  a 
great  desire  of  Eleanor's.  Sister  Raphael  gave 
her  a  little  picture  of  the  saint,  —  a  brown-tinted 
little  picture,  in  which  the  whole  life  of  the  ema- 
ciated and  spiritual  face  was  in  the  eyes,  upturned 
towards  the  seraphic  vision.  Underneath  was  the 
ejaculation  in  German,  "  Hail  I  St.  Francis  of 
Assisi,"  and  the  verse,  "  Happy  are  thy  clients 
when  they  learn  to  love  poverty  and  the  will  of 
God  ! " 

The  saints  seemed  at  first  to  Eleanor  like  far- 
off  people.  It  was  strange  to  Jiear  Sister  Raphael 
talk  as  if  St.  Joseph  were  at  her  elbow,  and  to 
see  Mary  Fitzgerald  stop  her  occupation  and  beg 
St.  Antony  to  help  her  find  some  lost  article. 
Even  Arthur,  when  in  a  serious  mood,  spoke  of 
his  favorite,  St.  Paul,  as  if  he  were  living  in  the 
next  house.  It  was  a  habit  which  these  Catholics 
had  from  their  earliest  childhood ;  it  had  been 
part  of  their  earliest  education  to  live  in  the  com- 
munion of  saints.  To  a  woman  trained  in  a 
school  in  which  the  "  communion  of  saints  "  is 
a  mere  phrase,  this  was  the  strangest  thing  of  all. 
Sister  Raphael  told  Eleanor  of  St.  Francis,  and 
lent  her  the  "  Fioretti."  Then  she  found  Mrs. 
Oliphant's  Life  of  her  beloved  Saint  in  the  Mer- 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     403 

cantile  Library ;  she  devoured  it  but  it  did  not 
quite  satisfy  her.  She  read  every  scrap  she  could 
find,  in  order  to  know  more  about  this  new  friend 
of  hers. 

"  There  is  nothing  in  English  that  satisfies 
me,"  she  said  to  Sister  Raphael.  "  I  must  learn 
Italian." 

"  Pray  for  his  spirit,  my  dear,"  the  Sister  an- 
swered. "  That  will  be  better." 

Like  everybody  in  the  little  circle  of  which 
Father  Jackson  was  the  centre,  Sister  Raphael 
believed  that  Eleanor  would  marry  Patrick  Des- 
mond, whose  praises  Arthur  and  Mary  had  so 
often  sung.  Sister  Raphael  was  not  of  the  world, 
but  she  lived  in  it  unavoidably,  and  she  did  not 
disapprove  of  the  match.  She  smiled  a  little  to 
herself  at  Eleanor's  fervor ;  she  had  known  con- 
verts before  who  had  been  quite  as  exalted ;  it 
was  her  opinion  that  they  needed  gentle  restraint 
and  frequent  dashes  of  cold  water  in  the  begin- 
ning. Eleanor,  however,  was  so  persistent  and 
persevering  that  Sister  Raphael  caught  herself 
wishing  that  the  girl  had  a  vocation  for  the  relig- 
ious life,  though  she  said  no  word  to  influence  her. 

" I  understand  what  St.  Francis  did  now"  said 
Eleanor  one  day,  after  a  morning  of  prayer  and 
meditation.  "  He  gave  himself  entirely  to  God 
and  God's  poor.  I  could  not  fathom  his  mystical 
mission,  but  at  the  Offertory  I  asked  for  his  spirit 


404      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

with  all  my  heart ;  and,  Sister  Raphael,  a  new 
understanding  came  to  me.  Oh !  I  could  never  go 
back  to  my  old  life.  I  am  cut  off  from  it  by  a 
flood  of  light.  Help  me,  Sister,  to  be  like  St. 
Francis  :  let  me  give  myself  to  the  poor,  and  be 
of  the  poor." 

Sister  Raphael  looked  at  the  upturned,  earnest 
face,  framed  by  the  black  veil  of  mourning,  and 
said: 

"  Eleanor,  are  you  free  ?  " 

"  Free  ?  "  asked  Eleanor,  surprised.  "  I  have 
no  father  to  keep  me  bound  in  love." 

"  But  is  there  no  other  ?  "  pursued  Sister  Raph- 
ael. And,  seeing  Eleanor's  puzzled  look,  she 
resolved  to  be  entirely  frank.  "  I  have  heard  the 
name  of  Mr.  Desmond  mentioned — " 

Eleanor  smiled,  much  relieved.  "  He  is  a  good 
man,  —  the  best  in  the  world,  I  think.  But  I 
never  thought  of  him  in  the  way  you  mean ;  and 
I  am  sure  it  was  just  his  goodness  that  made  him 
so  kind  to  me." 

Sister  Raphael  looked  into  her  clear  eyes;  it 
was  her  turn  to  be  puzzled.  She  kissed  Eleanor 
on  the  forehead  and  bade  her  go  to  Father  Jack- 
son. 

Somewhat  later  she  returned  to  Sister  Raphael, 
and  waited  for  her  until  it  was  time  to  dismiss 
her  class.  The  sister  found  her  pale  and  grave, 
changed  somewhat  by  the  strain  upon  her  mind ; 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATEICK  DESMOND.     405 

and,  as  she  looked  up  when  the  Sister  entered, 
all  the  life  in  her  face  seemed  to  be  in  her  eyes. 
Sister  Raphael  took  Eleanor's  hand  in  hers,  and 
they  had  a  long  talk. 

Somehow  Eleanor  disliked  to  break  the  news  to 
the  Fitzgeralds.  She  felt  that  Mary  would,  in 
her  heart  reproach  her  with  cold-heartedness, 
and  with  too  much  enthusiasm,  or  with  both. 
She  faced  them  at  dinner,  looking  with  a  certain 
tremor  at  Mary,  over  the  bunch  of  mignonette  in 
the  centre  of  the  table. 

After  dinner,  while  Arthur  Fitzgerald  dozed 
over  his  newspaper  by  the  cheerful  grate,  and 
Mary  played  the  "  Traumerai "  very  softly,  Elea- 
nor thought  over  what  Sister  Raphael  had  said ; 
and  a  strange,  new  gladness  came  into  her  heart. 

"  Mary  ! "  she  whispered. 

Her  companion  looked  at  her,  but  did  not  stop 
her  music. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  something.  I  am  beginning 
to  find  my  vocation." 

Mary  smiled  and  stopped  abruptly.  "  I  thought 
so.  Had  you  a  letter  to-day  ?  Oh  I  my  dear,  I 
hope  you  will  be  happy.  But  I  am  afraid  there 
will  be  a  long  waiting." 

"  Do  they  make  one  wait  long  ?  "  said  Eleanor. 
"  I  did  not  ask  Sister  Raphael  about  details,  but 
I  have  spoken  to  Father  Jackson." 

"  Sister  Raphael !  " 


406      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND 

"  Yes  ;  she  told  me  about  vocations.  It  was 
lovely ;  it  was  satisfying.  If  they  will  let  me, 
Mary,  I  will  become  a  Sister." 

Mary  looked  at  the  young  girl  in  astonishment. 
Then  she  smiled  and  began  the  "  Traumerai " 
again. 

"  This  music  is  appropriate,  —  dreams,  my 
dear  ;  dreams.  You  converts  are  always  at  fever 
heat." 

"  I  am  sure  I  am  not  dreaming,"  said  Eleanor, 
seriously.  Mary,  noticing  the  expression  of  her 
face,  ceased  playing  again,  and  waited  with  anx- 
iety. "  It  may  be  presumption  on  my  part,  but 
it  is  not  a  dream  ;  at  least,  it  is  a  hope." 

"  And  what  is  to  become  of  Mr.  Desmond  ? " 
asked  Mary,  with  a  tinge  of  censure  in  her  voice. 
"  Eleanor,  I  thought  you  liked  him." 

"  Of  course  I  liked  him,  —  of  course  I  like  him ; 
he  is  a  good  and  brave  man ;  and  whenever  I 
have  met  him  I  have  felt  there  was  more  good- 
ness and  bravery  in  him  than  he  shows.  He  was 
the  first  really  religious  man  I  ever  met.  I  be- 
lieve that  it  was  the  unconscious  influence  of  his 
sincerity  that  caused  me  to  begin  to  think,  and  to 
throw  away  a  lot  of  nonsense." 

"  And  you  will  give  him  up  ? "  demanded 
Mary. 

"  Give  him  up !  "  repeated  Eleanor,  in  some 
doubt.  "  Oh ! "  she  continued,  with  a  slight  laugh, 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK   DESMOND.      407 

"  I  see  what  you  mean.  How  can  I  give  him  up  ? 
"He  never — "  and  the  girl  laughed  again, — 
"he  never  asked  me.  I  don't  believe  he  ever 
thought  of  such  a  thing." 

Arthur  raised  his  head  from  his  paper  to  It/ok 
toward  the  corner  from  which  the  ripple  of  laugh- 
ter came. 

"  Ah !  Miss  Redwood,"  he  said,  "  you  are  light- 
hearted,  and  yet  here  I  see  that  the  Fly-Away 
stock  is  out  of  the  market.  I  can  understand  it; 
for  Desmond  writes  that  capitalists  refuse  to  risk 
anything  in  the  reclaiming  of  the  mines.  And  yet 
you  laugh.  If  I  were  in  your  place  —  if  Des- 
mond had  sold  me  the  shares  —  I  should  not 
laugh,  I  assure  you." 

Arthur  buried  himself  in  his  paper. 

"  I  thought  Mr.  Desmond  spoke  to  you  the 
other  day  in  the  parlor,"  said  Mary,  in  a  low  tone. 

"  He  did,  but  not  in  that  way.  I'm  sure  he 
never  thought  of  me.  How  can  you  be  so  foolish  ? 
I  declare,  I  think  all  married  people  are  inveter- 
ate matchmakers." 

Mary  looked  at  her  reproachfully.  "  I  know 
Patrick  Desmond  is  in  love  with  you." 

Eleanor's  color  rose.  "  It  is  impossible  !  You 
like  me,  and  you  fancy  everybody  else  does.  I 
admit  that  I  like  him ;  but,"  she  said,  in  a  graver 
voice,  "  I  like  him  because  of  the  goodness  religion 
has  fostered  in  him." 


408      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  I  hope  that  he  has  some  natural  virtues," 
observed  Mary  sarcastically. 

"  Don't  let  us  talk  about  him,"  Eleanor  said. 
"  If  he  did  like  me  in  the  way  you  mean,  I  should 
not  marry  him.  I  see  the  shining  of  a  great  Light 
in  him  :  why  should  not  I  choose  the  great  Light 
itself  ?  Why  should  I  espouse  the  servant  when 
the  higher  Spouse,  Our  Lord,  awaits  me  ?  " 

"  Sister  Raphael  has  been  talking  to  you.  Really, 
my  dear  Eleanor,  you  are  very  selfish,"  said 
Mary. 

Eleanor  smiled,  and  no  reproaches  could  induce 
her  to  continue  the  conversation. 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     409 

XXXI. 

"  Without  fear  and  without  reproach." 

DESMOND,  at  Eaglescliff,  had  struggled  against 
all  probabilities  to  interest  capitalists  in  the  restor- 
ation of  the  mines.  He  spared  neither  time  nor 
pains.  It  was  useless :  the  mines  were  dead— 
for  a  long  time  at  least.  The  lake,  on  the  night 
of  the  storm,  had  done  its  work  thoroughly,  and 
restless  water  filled  their  innermost  recesses.  Ex- 
perts, who  had  been  hopeful  after  the  first  flood, 
gave  opinions  that  seemed  ultra-conservative  to 
Desmond.  For  three  weeks  he  worked  harder 
than  he  had  ever  worked  in  his  life.  People  said 
that  he  was  a  "  trump  " ;  hard-headed  speculators 
admired  his  pluck.  The  new  traction  car  com- 
pany, whose  president  had  some  stock  in  the  Fly- 
Away,  offered  him  a  good  place,  which  seemed  to 
promise  a  future.  This  gave  him  hope.  He  ac- 
cepted it ;  ran  over  to  Redwood  —  where  he  would 
henceforth  be  stationed  —  to  greet  Ms  mother, 
and  then  started  for  New  York.  His  mother 
parted  with  him  sadly.  She  kissed  him  wistfully 
over  and  over  again.  Why  must  mothers  love 
their  sons,  and  yet  they  see  them  go  farther  and 
farther  away  as  each  day  brings  their  boys  greater 
strength?  It  was  right,  of  course,  that  her  son 


410      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

should  seek  a  wife ;  and  yet,  in  spite  of  reason 
and  right,  Mrs.  Desmond's  heart  was  sore. 

Patrick's  ride  to  New  York  did  not  occupy 
many  hours.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  it  took  him 
through  a  century,  as  thickly  studded  with  hopes 
and  fears  as  a  Northern  forest  with  pine  trees. 
He  knew  he  had  little  to  offer  Eleanor  Redwood ; 
he  felt  utterly  unworthy  of  her.  How  dared  he 
think  of  her  as  sharing  his  struggles  ?  How 
dared  he  offer  her  —  a  princess  among  women  — 
a  humble  home  ?  He  became  timid  and  brave  in 
a  breath.  He  had  been  dreaming;  he  had  been 
living  in  a  fool's  paradise  ;  he  had  built  a  bridge 
of  rainbows,  simply  because  his  hopes  were  rain- 
bow tinted.  He  would  get  out  at  the  next  station 
and  turn  back,  —  but  still  he  kept  on. 

The  Fitzgeralds  were  in  their  cheerful  sitting- 
room,  which  he  could  see  between  the  curtains,  as 
he  was  shown  into  the  drawing-room.  The  light 
of  the  reading-lamp  was  tempered  by  a  soft,  glow- 
ing shade  ;  the  sound  of  music  struck  his  ear,  and 
Mary's  laugh,  as  Arthur  tried  to  reach  a  high 
note.  Was  Eleanor  there  ?  Would  he  soon  see 
her?  Desmond's  heart  beat  fast.  In  a  moment 
the  curtains  would  part,  and  he  would  behold  her 
whom  he  acknowledged  as  the  most  worthy  woman 
of  all  the  world. 

The  curtains  parted :  Mary  Fitzgerald  entered 
with  his  card  in  her  hand.  The  gas  was  rather 


TEE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.     411 

low.  Mary  gave  his  face  a  quick  glance,  and 
turned  the  key  of  the  gas-fixture ;  the  light 
blazed.  Patrick  saw  that  she  was  embarassed. 
A  fear  seized  him. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  ?  Has  anything  hap- 
pened to  —  to  —  " 

He  became  aware  that  his  question  was  more 
frank  than  conventional ;  he  hesitated. 

"  I  am  sorry,  Mr.  Desmond,"  Mary  said,  nerv- 
ously ;  "  but  Miss  Redwood  is  not  here.  She 
left  yesterday  for  the  mother-house  of  the  Sisters 
of  Charity ;  she  will  become  a  postulant  there." 

Desmond  did  not  move  or  speak.  Mary  clasped 
her  hands.  She  afterwards  said  she  had  never 
seen  a  man  in  such  distress. 

"  O,  Mr.  Desmond ! "  she  cried,  searching  for 
some  consolation,  "  she  may  change  her  mind,  — 
girls  often  do." 

"  No,  she  never  will ;  she  is  a  woman  —  please 
let  me  go,  replied  Desmond,  in  a  voice  that 
sounded  broken.  "  Excuse  me  to  your  husband ; 
I  must  be  alone  for  a  time,"  he  said,  with  a  ges- 
ture toward  the  other  room.  "  To-morrow  I  will 
see  him." 

He  rose.  Mary,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  followed 
him  to  the  door.  He  waved  his  hand  slightly, 
and,  without  speaking,  went  out  into  the  dark- 
ness. 

"  0,  Arthur,"  said  Mary,  returning  bathed  in 


412     THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

tears,  "how  hard-hearted  she  is.  I  could  never 
have  treated  you  that  way." 

"  It  wasn't  your  vocation,"  answered  Arthur. 
"  Halloo !  why  didn't  Desmond  wait  ?  Never 
mind.  Come  play  this  accompaniment  for  me. 
Believe  me,  my  dear,  he'll  get  over  it ;  and,  be- 
tween ourselves,  I  think  they  are  both  too  self- 
willed  and  Quixotic  to  have  been  happy  together. 
Now,  we  are  different." 

But  Mary  sat  down  and  had  a  good  cry  before 
she  played  the  accompaniment.  How  could  Arthur 
be  so  heartless  ?  And  Eleanor  ?  If  Mary  had 
only  known  it,  Eleanor  had  almost  forgotten 
Patrick  Desmond,  having,  as  she  thought,  satis- 
fied her  obligations  to  him  when  she  had  written 
him  a  cordial  note  of  thanks,  and  sent  him  her 
father's  gold-headed  walking-stick. 

Desmond  went  back  to  Redwood,  after  he  had 
a  long  business  talk  with  Fitzgerald.  Arthur 
begged  him  to  remain  in  New  York  ;  he  might 
study  law  with  him ;  there  was  a  career  open  for 
him ;  he  was  honorable,  he  was  energetic,  he  was 
clever;  and  Arthur  liked  him  and  would  help 
him  all  he  could.  Desmond  said  that  he  must 
go ;  while  his  mother  lived  he  must  stay  at  Red- 
wood. At  least  he  could  make  Tier  happy. 

Later,  when  Jack  Conlon  was  ordained,  and 
through  unusual  good  fortune,  put  in  the  place 
of  the  old  pastor  at  Redwood,  who  was  sent 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      413 

abroad  for  a  rest,  Desmond  found  his  career  at 
home.  His  own  people,  at  Redwood,  wanted  a 
disinterested  leader,  who  could  keep  them  out  of 
the  political  mire,  and  teach  them  their  own 
strength  and  how  to  respect  it.  They  found  this 
leader  in  Patrick  Desmond. 

And  his  mother?  Is  she  happy?  Her  boy  is 
safe  with  her ;  but  he  is  not  the  same ;  he  is  sad- 
der and  he  has  left  his  youth  somewhere,  He  is 
not  the  impetuous,  hot-tempered,  outspoken  boy 
of  a  year  ago;  and  she  regrets  this.  She  has 
him  back  at  home,  but  she  cannot  think,  without 
a  certain  bitterness,  of  Eleanor  Redwood.  She 
does  not  know  the  circumstances  of  the  case ;  he 
has  never  spoken  about  it ;  for,  after  all,  he  has 
nothing  to  tell.  He  had  hoped  —  that  was  all. 

Father  Conlon  was  delighted  to  hear  that 
Belinda  was  not  permanently  engaged  when  he 
entered  the  rather  dilapidated  pastoral  house  at 
Redwood.  To  the  amazement  of  that  town,  and 
afterward  to  the  terror  of  the  insolent,  she  took 
her  place  as  housekeeper  for  him.  In  this  position 
she  arose  far  above  her  own  level ;  and  even  the 
haughty  Mrs.  Howard  Sykes  saluted  her  meekly, 
after  having  offered  her  a  tract  —  once,  only  once  ! 
Belinda  was  never  particularly  fond  of  Patrick 
Desmond ;  but  she  looks  on  him  as  an  injured 
man,  and  repents  of  her  impulsive  betrayal  of  the 
Redwood  family  secret  to  Laura  Bayard;  the 


414      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

more  that  she  somehow  fancies  that  Eleanor  would 
have  married  Patrick  if  she  had  not  done  that 
wrong,  —  which  the  honest  old  soul  makes  satis- 
faction for  as  well  as  she  can.  She  often  declares 
that  if  she  had  not  learned  to  do  penance,  she 
should  have  gone  mad  with  remorse. 

Nellie  Galligan,  with  some  assistance  from 
Esther  Longworthy,  who  was  appealed  to  in  the 
name  of  little  Miley,  opened  a  cigar  shop  in  the 
Bowery,  next  to  Bastien's  old  place.  She  prospers 
and  grows  rich.  Miles  wears  old  clothes  and  does 
such  work  as  his  wife  requires  him  to  do.  He 
has  neither  money  nor  credit ;  and  Nellie  keeps 
him  in  that  condition  as  a  guarantee  that  he  will 
not  drink  too  much.  She  speaks  of  the  past  with 
regret ;  of  her  "  reverses  "  with  a  sigh ;  of  the 
Longworthys  and  Fitzgeralds  with  charity  and 
resignation.  She  now  leads  a  life  that  suits  her  — 
a  bustling,  managing  life.  And  she  will  make  a 
man  of  little  Miles,  for  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
good  in  Nellie,  and  her  energy  is  tempered  by  ex- 
perience. 

The  Baroness  von  Homburg  and  Mr.  Stokes 
have  become  theosophists.  The  latter  is  too  limp 
to  think  seriously ;  a  belief  in  the  nirvana  pays 
him.  So  he  is  looked  on  as  inspired  by  the  fre- 
quenters of  the  Baroness'  esoteric  circle,  and  he 
wears  the  robes  of  a  Brahmin  as  he  once  wore  his 
dust-coat.  But  he  feels  his  degradation :  he  has 


TEE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      415 

never  forgotten  the  night  of  the  great  storm,  and 
the  great  sacrifice  Desmond's  religion  obliged  him 
to  make.  Sometimes  when  he  passes  the  cathe- 
dral he  longs  to  go  in  and  find  the  secret  of  the 
awful  grace  that  saved  his  former  friend,  under 
the  greatest  stress,  from  sin,  —  and  yet  he  only 
longs,  —  he  lacks  courage. 

One  day,  as  Desmond  and  Father  Conlon  were 
standing  by  the  road  that  led  to  the  bridge  at 
Redwood,  a  carriage  with  a  blazing  coat  of  arms 
passed  them.  The  women  in  it,  who  were  gorge- 
ously attired,  bowed  to  Desmond ;  the  man  in  the 
front  seat  involuntarily  took  off  his  hat,  and  then, 
replacing  it,  scowled.  These  people  were  the 
Baroness  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bayard. 

"  The  Bayards  have  bought  the  Judge's  house, 
and  will  cut  a  wide  swath  here  in  Redwood," 
remarked  Father  Conlon.  "  They  have  grown 
wealthy  in  a  short  time.  Those  are  fine  horses, 
and  how  the  whole  thing  glitters  and  shines." 

Patrick  Desmond  flipped  some  dust  off  his 
coat,  cast  by  the  wheels  of  the  Bayard  carriage. 
His  face  changed  for  a  moment,  and  then  took 
on  a  pleasant  expression.  There  was  his  mother 
on  the  other  side,  on  her  way  home  from  a  visit 
to  the  Blessed  Sacrament ;  he  lifted  his  hat  and 
waved  his  hand  to  her. 

The  Bayard  carriage  turned  again,  with  a 
glitter  of  silver  and  a  jingle  of  chains  ;  its  occu- 
pants looked  the  other  way  as  they  passed. 


416      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

"  Is  that  success  ?  "  Desmond  asked,  smiling. 

"  You'll  have  to  look  in  the  dictionary,"  an- 
swered Father  Conlon,  laughing.  "  It  is  not  what 
you  or  I  call  success.  My  boy,  you  are,  in  the 
sight  of  God,  the  most  successful  man  I  know." 

As  they  strolled  by  the  river  bank,  back  of  the 
Judge's  house,  as  in  the  old  days,  Desmond  re- 
called with  a  sudden  pain  the  night  he  had  seen 
Eleanor  waiting  in  fear  of  ill  news,  and  had  given 
her  a  rosary.  He  wondered  whether  she  had  kept 
it  or  not.  Certainly  she  must  have  prayed  for 
him,  since  he  had  come  to  rejoice  that  she  had 
found  the  highest  vocation.  He  had  heard  of  her 
profession,  and  after  that  no  more  ;  and  he  had 
asked  of  God  that  she  might  find  all  the  joy  of 
the  spouse  of  Christ.  His  dream  was  gone.  He 
wondered  now  how  he  could  have  built  up  his 
hope  on  such  a  slight  foundation.  He  blushed 
when  he  thought  of  his  presumption,  and  felt 
ashamed  that  Mary  and  Arthur,  and  even  Belinda, 
had  guessed  his  secret.  After  all,  he  thought  it 
was  only  just  that  the  noblest  woman  in  this  world 
should  have  chosen  "  the  better  part ;  "  and  he 
thanked  heaven  that  he  had  never  disturbed  the 
serenity  of  that  pure  soul  by  a  word  of  love. 

Eleanor  became  to  Desmond  what  Beatrice  was 
to  Dante  —  a  creature  above  the  world,  endowed 
with  all  virtues ;  a  mentor,  a  guide,  the  compan- 
ion of  his  thoughts  and  the  censor  of  them.  He 


THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND.      417 

led  an  inner  life,  of  which  only  his  friend,  Father 
Conlon  caught  glimpses.  He  rose  step  by  step  in 
the  estimation  of  his  fellow-men ;  his  words  carried 
weight,  his  name  was  synonymous  with  the  most 
scrupulous  honesty.  And  each  step  he  took  up- 
ward was  a  step  for  all  the  young  men  of  bis 
blood  in  Redwood,  until  it  was  the  ambition  of 
those  he  influenced,  not  to  be  rich  at  all  hazards, 
but  to  be  honest  at  all  hazards.  He  accomplished 
this  at  the  cost  of  many  sacrifices,  and  some 
people  declared  he  was  a  fool.  Desmond  knew 
what  is  said  of  every  man  with  a  purpose,  and  it 
did  not  trouble  him.  If  he  had  followed  the 
ethics  of  business,  common  in  Redwood,  he  might 
have  had  a  carriage  like  Harry  Bayard ;  —  there, 
for  instance,  was  that  contract  for  the  sewers, 
when  Desmond  was  in  the  Redwood  town  coun- 
cil, —  but  that  is  a  long  story. 

Sometimes  the  old  craving  for  wealth  came 
back,  and  for  a  moment  he  saw  himself  at  the 
telephone  on  the  night  of  the  great  storm,  with 
the  terrible  alternative  of  that  occasion  before 
him.  The  vision  cured  him.  If  he  had  succumbed 
he  would  now  be  the  greatest  failure  on  earth  — 
a  man  who  had  sold  his  conscience  and  his  soul. 

His  disappointment,  bitter  while  it  lasted,  had 
made  him  grave,  and  men  took  his  reserve  for 
pride  in  his  immaculate  reputation.  But  there 
was  too  much  fear  in  his  heart  for  pride  to  find  a 


418      THE  SUCCESS  OF  PATRICK  DESMOND. 

lodging  place.  However,  this  reserve,  tempered 
by  a  tolerance,  which  the  memory  of  his  keen 
temptation  led  him  to  extend  to  others  who  had 
fallen,  was  a  great  part  of  the  influence  he  wielded. 

There  came  a  time  when  all  Father  Conlon's 
hopes  concerning  his  people  in  Redwood  were 
realized.  Self-respect  had  forced  out  the  idleness 
and  thriftlessness  which  self-indulgence  had  fos- 
tered. Saturday  night  was  no  longer  a  saturnalia 
by  the  riverside,  when  the  whiskey  shops  con- 
sumed the  week's  earnings.  Father  Conlon's 
people  had  learned  that  they  were  bound  to  let 
their  light  shine  clear  before  men  ;  and  that  a 
stain  on  them  meant,  in  the  eyes  of  their  unbe- 
lieving neighbors,  a  stain  on  the  Church  they  loved 
more  than  life.  They  did  not  indulge  in  polemics, 
but  tried  to  live  so  that  the  glow  of  faith  shone 
in  their  acts.  Many  times  Father  Conlon  thanked 
Desmond,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  for  having 
helped  by  his  example  to  make  this  possible. 

Desmond  never  attained  what  the  world  calls 
success :  he  never  became  rich ;  he  always  lived 
in  the  little  town  that  gave  him  birth.  And  yet, 
when  he  looked  at  his  dear  old  mother,  and  felt 
in  his  heart  he  could  say  that  her  earliest  prayers 
over  his  cradle  had  been  answered,  he  knew  that  he 
had  succeeded ;  for  the  first  prayer  of  every  good 
mother  is  that  her  son  may  be  an  honest  man. 


A  New  Edition  of  an  Important  Book 


DANGERS  OF  THE  DAY 

By  the  Rt.  Rev.  Bishop  John  S.  Vaughan 

With  an  Introduction  by 
The  Rt.  Rev.  Mgr.  Moyes,  D.  D. 


PUBLISHER'S  PREFACE. 
The  space  at  the  publisher's  disposal 
here  enables  him  to  express  his  pleasure 
over  the  issue  of  a  new  edition  of  so  ex- 
cellent and  timely  a  book  as  "Dangers  of 
the  Day,"  his  hope  that  there  will  be 
numerous  other  editions  of  it,  and  his 
gratification  in  being  able  to  present  a 
complete  list  of  Bishop  Vaughan's  works, 
all  so  well  deserving  in  every  way  of  the 
widest  possible  circulation.  "Dangers  of 
the  Day"  is  one  of  the  most  important 
of  them.  It  points  to  perils  that  every- 
where confront  Christians,  and  indicates 
the  safeguards  which  alone  can  preserve 
them  from  the  world's  contamination. 

The  value  of  the  present  volume  is  en- 
hanced by  a  full  index,  which  has  been 
supplied  by  the  Rev.  Kerndt  M.  Healy, 
C.  S.  C. 

218  pages,  12  mo.  Price,  $1.50. 


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MARIOLATRY: 

NEW  PHASES  OF  AN  OLD 
FALLACY 

REV.  HENRY  G.  GANSS 


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tion to  the  Mother  of  God. — Evening 
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One  of  the  best  specimens  of  polemic 
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